


Uncrowned

by OatMilkLatte



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death, F/M, M/M, Muggle War, No character bashing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Powerful Harry, Time Travel, Underage - Freeform, but it is really underage because time travel, destress writing between finals, some gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:01:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21818590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OatMilkLatte/pseuds/OatMilkLatte
Summary: Unobserved and unknown to most, a bright star met its end and fell over the night sky. Whilst in Hogwarts, Trelawney trembled with the force of a new prophecy:"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord is risen, born in a slaughter of souls, born as he thrice defies death...carnage will be his companion, as darkness will be his bride...a time shall come when the Serpent takes the world between Its jaws, demanding sacrifices promised...and none shall live as long as It prevails ...The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord is risen..."In which a war between magic and the rest of the world destroyed everything Harry had ever known and loved. Traveling back in time, he will stop at nothing to carry out his vengeance.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 113
Kudos: 511





	1. The Man Who Died and Lived again

In precisely thirty seconds, Harry James Potter would die and be reborn again, for the third time in his twenty-five years of life. At thirty seconds till midnight, the sky was pitch black except for the barrage of explosives. Explosions sliced through the air around him like an orchestrated show of fireworks. Riding his broom, Harry glided through them all with the agility of an ethereal ghost. He didn’t bother with disillusionment charms. Muggles had built their drones with sensors to capture irregularities in airflow, and Harry was a blazing target for the fleet of attack drones on his tail.

Another bullet exploded dangerously close, fragments splattering and sinking into his side. But the pain he felt was nothing compared to the biting burn in his left chest, where _It_ squirmed impatiently. Harry pressed even more weight onto his Firebolt, driving it faster towards its owner’s imminent death. This cycle of his life shall soon conclude the same way it began: with powerful magic and great sacrifice. From his first brush with death, he was marked the Boy who Lived. But while he was shielded from death by his mother’s magic of pure love, _That_ which currently resided in his chest reeked of darkness. By his second encounter with death, he had claimed the title of its Master. But while he had walked into the Forbidden forest a sacrificial lamb, the blood he intended to offer today would not be his own.

In the distant horizon, a light twinkled. It gained in size with each passing heartbeat. The missile rapidly approached until it lit up the atmosphere like a torch. Just as Harry expected, the muggles couldn’t figure out the exact location he’s headed, so instead they decided to blow up the entire region.

But they were too late – already Harry had spotted his final destination – one completely ordinary looking tree amid the mountains. Harry knew every angle and bend of its branches, as well as he knew the most fantastic formation of magic that lied underneath. A high pitched laugh escaped his mouth. In the countdown to death, Harry felt more joyous and free than he had been in a very long time. He flew like a spectacled first year boy again. His heart beat so fast it barely had a pulse. Before he knew it, he was cackling as he dived towards the ground at fast as lightening. Behind his eyelids he could see the Hogwart’s Quidditch field. He could smell the fresh cut grass, see his friends cheering, and the golden and crimson banners with his name billowing against the wind. He reached out his hand, like a Seeker towards the snitch. _It_ tore through the prison of flesh. A tiny Shadow crawled out of his thumping heart, squirmed out of his chest, and slithered down the outstretched arm.

There was the sound of thunder. The explosion of the missile lit up the sky bright as day, but the earth below outshone it with a blinding web of patterns. Precisely at midnight, the Shadow burrowed into Its supposed spot next to the tree, into the very center of a rune formation the size of Britain. Dormant magic awakened to Its call. Once invisible rune paths stretched from the tiny tree outwards, north to the Scottish Highlands and south to London, east to Ireland and west to the middle of the North sea, to each of the stations his people had given their lives to erect. Birds started dropping from the sky like drops of water in a rain. Animals and people alike fell. Every living soul enclosed in the web of magic was instantly sucked out of their houses of flesh and into the formation, fueling the magnificence of its magic.

Entire Britain shone like a star around Harry. The heat and light lit his body aflame. It boiled all the water in his eyes, and he went blind instantly. Reflected in those unseeing emerald orbs, a giant Serpent hatched from the whiteness. It’s eyes rivaled the size of the moon. Harry didn’t look away. Suddenly he could clearly see Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville … everyone. All the wizards and witches he recognized that had been lost had returned to him.

“You did good, Harry.” Hermione said, cradling her lopped off head in her arms.

“Go ahead. We’ll always have your back.” Ron said, putting a blackened hand on his shoulder.

Harry fell to his knees and prayed.

_Jǫrmungandr, the Bringer of Ends, He who consumes and makes the world anew. Take me back in TIme._

The Serpent’s jaw unhinged. Its body tightened around the world in an unescapable grasp and swallowed the earth whole. It devoured Everything and all the Space in between and drank the river of Time dry. When there was nothing left, it swallowed its own tail and worked Its way up, consuming Itself.

Harry’s last conscious thought was falling literally into the Serpent’s stomach.

* * *

The World Serpent spat him out onto a cold hard surface.

I worked! Harry's heart thumped loudly inside the fractured ribs. The ritual reversed time and he was still alive!

Harry couldn’t see a damn thing, nor hear anything over the loud ringing in his ears. He didn’t know where he was, or which year he landed in. The only way left for him to sense this world was though touch. Harry felt for the cobbled road below, chilly against his palms. When the loud ringing in his ears finally subsided a little, he heard the threatened hiss of a cat, and soft footsteps as it scurried away.

A deadly cold crept up along his spine. Harry felt he was being watched. He had garnered the attention of the ancient force that some called God, others Fate. The universe watched him through large amble eyes of the stray cat, through every rustle of the leaves, and every atom of the stones beneath him. Even though he was blind, he felt the gaze in his very soul. His magic flowed sluggishly, as if frozen in fear. The universe knew he did not belong here. There was already a Harry Potter in this world, and his presence here alarmed this world’s immune system like a foreign germ. It would not take too long for his soul to disintegrate and body to melt away as if he never existed before. Then every trace he left on this world would be scrubbed away with it.

Harry would not have it. For too long he had been a plaything for prophecies and Fate, but that would end right here, right now. If Fate had carved the annihilation of his people in stone, he would shatter it and write his own tale over the debris. Pushing against the ground, Harry pulled himself up with every ounce of strength left in his body. He laughed, a low, rumbling noise in his throat. The weight of the universe’s scrutiny pinned him down as if he were a tiny bug to be squashed at whim. But here he was standing!

Harry put one foot before the other and began to walk. His body complained painfully with every contraction of muscles. It was only a matter of days, or even hours, before he would die. He must find the real Harry Potter in this time quickly and possess him, but first, he had things to tend to…

“Ahh!” Frightened screams startled Harry out of his reverie. He reached out his magic tentatively, and “saw” the blurry outlines of a group of children. One was wearing a witch’s hat, another wrapped in bandages, and lastly a kid with a giant fish bowl over his head who was supposedly an astronaut.

“You scream like a little girl!” The witch teased the mummy boy.

“You screamed too!”

“I did not!”

“Happy Halloween.” The astronaut said to him “Your makeup is sick!”

Of course it would be All Hallows Eve. Harry supposed it made sense since the veil between the Living and the Dead became the filmiest at this time of the year. He hoped this meant his body could last longer and give him enough time to finish the job.

“Which year is it?” Harry asked in a raspy voice “Which city are we in?”

The children looked amongst themselves awkwardly. “Is it a joke?” The witch asked bossily “It’s not funny.”

Under different circumstances, he might have found the gall of the little Muggle girl refreshing. Harry straightened his corpse-like body and peered at them from under the hooded cloak. Quite the image he made, with skin burnt raw and emotionless eyes that mirrored the gaze of a shark. Worst of all, half of his left cheek and ear were missing like it was chopped off by a jagged saw.

The kids yelped and huddled closer. The mummy boy started sniffling, barely holding back tears.

“It’s October 31st 1993 sir.” The little astronaut answered shakily “In London England.”

Harry was relieved. “Good, good.” He muttered. Having gotten what he wanted, he turned away from the Muggle children.

He happened to be in the same city and time as one of his potential targets. This would make apparition much easier on his ragged body. His magic helped navigate him to a nearby uninhabited alley where he took out the Holly wand. It appeared that his old friend was in the same predicament as he was, shivering under the hostility of the universe. Harry forced his magic through it anyway and disappeared with a crack.

* * *

Vancer Biomedics was an elegant combination of sleek tinted glasses and red bricks. At the moment, festive lights from the main hall shone like a beacon in this otherwise sparsely populated neighborhood. A gentlemen with silver hair excused himself from the chattering crowd, claiming that he promised to take his wife out for the night. Though not a day over 40, Dr. Martin had greying hair that went hand in hand with steely eyes and a sharp complexion. He was renowned for spearheading advancements including the treatment against HIV virus, but also infamous in the scientific community for his unpopular passion for the supernatural.

After collecting his jacket from the coat check and leaving a generous tip, Dr. Martin finally stepped outside. He breathed a sigh of relief as he loosened his tie. He actually detested socializing with the corporate men and occasionally, politicians, but his ambitions beyond the lab demanded it.

Walking briskly down his usual path home, Dr. Martin was already formulating wild hypothesis in his mind for his most prized project, when a homeless man by the side of the street caught his eye. The man sat slumped against a wall. He was small, but undoubtably male judging by the bone structure. Only the man’s hands were visible, while the rest of his body was enveloped by a tattered clock. Under the lamp light, it was clear that every inch of exposed skin, from wrist to fingertips, was horribly burnt and oozing blood.

A mixture of intrigue and sympathy led the doctor to empty his pocket of cash in front of the homeless man. Coins clattered on the ground. To his utter surprise, however, the burnt hand reached out and caught a coin deftly before it hit the ground. Scarred but slender fingers toyed with it with a twirl and a swirl, then made the shiny coin dance over its knuckles. Dr. Martin blinked. The next instant the coin had vanished up the man’s sleeve.

“Nice trick.” Dr. Martin complimented. His eyes lingered over the now empty hand. The crinkled, raw skin looked decidedly different from any normal burn marks. It almost looked like the effects of exposure to explosion and radiation. Could it be? And why did the dark stains over the man’s robe look suspiciously like blood? He must admit, the homeless man had successfully piqued his insatiable appetite for mystery.

As if hearing his thoughts, the mysterious man laughed in a huffing noise. “Would you like to know how I got these scars?”

Dr Martin looked up, and suddenly found himself staring into a pair of soulless green eyes. The lone street light lit up the man’s features over a canvas of darkness. Dr. Martin had seen more than the normal share of miseries, but the sight of the man’s deformed face made the hair on his neck stand up. It was a miracle the man was still alive from the injuries he suffered. Despite his many years of medical experience, Dr Martin couldn’t fathom what had hacked off nearly a third of the man’s head.

This alarming observation forced the doctor to notice, to really notice, the blood stained robe. He just assumed that the homeless wore the first thing they could put their hands on in this cold weather, but there could be a whole other set of explanations for the weird style of clothing…

Horror distorted the doctor’s face. He took a step back, trying to put distance between himself and the man, but he saw a long wooden stick slip into the man’s palm and heard a muttered “Imperio.” All of a sudden, all the fear and confusion drained from his body. He felt more relaxed than he had been for ages, like he having a sweet dream on a soft, pillowed bed.

 _Wand._ A voice screamed in the back of his head. _Magic. Spells!_

Dr. Martin happily ignored it.

A pained look crossed the homeless man’s face. His hold on the stick tightened so much that the scars over his knuckles cracked open and oozed blood. Taking in a few shuddering breath, the man eventually calmed himself.

“Let’s go home.” He said to Dr. Martin.

It sounded like a swell idea. Dr. Martin cheerily turned and led them home. Once they stepped inside his house, it didn’t occur to Dr Martin to greet his wife. He suddenly felt compelled to show the mysterious man his most fascinating project, and led them straight to the study.

Harry followed silently like a ghost and closed the door behind them. The doctor’s study was spacious and tastefully decorated. Shelves filled with books lined the walls from floor to ceiling. Held at the tip of Harry’s wand, Dr. Martin opened a password protected file on his personal computer. Harry walked up for a closer look. It was a clumsy big of metal, nothing like the powerful computers in the future that can fit into a person’s palm and project holograms. Still, it held an incredibly large amount of information.

“01/02 mysterious symbol in the air”

“01/02 eyewitness account”

“01/06 unusual animal activities”

“01/10 Blake family disappearance”

……

Even at first glance, the sheer number of incidences shocked Harry and made him seethe in anger. Thanks to the reckless Death Eaters and sloppy Ministry workers, the Muggles had been secretly investigating them all along, while they were embroiled in meaningless civil wars and petty politics.

“Tell me” Harry asked softly “What is a muggle like you looking for chasing after magic like this?”

Dr Martin’s eyes glistened through the haze of the Imperious curse. “Power.” He answered “The potential to cure diseases, end hunger, harvest undepletable energy, bend the laws of physics.”

Harry broke into a fit of laughter like he just heard the funniest joke. “Of course! I expect nothing less from the future head of the Lab.”

The irony! Imagine the great lengths that muggles would go to for power, while the ones gifted with magic were so scared of the sparks their own hands made, that they were content to live hiding in the shadows. Harry laughed so hard he felt the prickling of tears around his eyes. Perhaps the wizarding world never stood a chance to begin with.

“Greg, are you home?” A woman’s voice asked outside the door “Was that you?”

The ringing laughter died out as Harry shifted his attention to the door, contemplating his next step. A simple spell could do the trick, but he felt that his magic was being slowly drained by this foreign environment. It got weaker and weaker with every spell he uttered, like fresh cut flowers shriveling in a vase. Harry decided that he must save his magical reserve for the difficult ritual to be performed.

Harry mentally suggested the doctor to welcome his wife inside, while he slipped silently beside the door.

“I’m inside, honey.”

At the sound of Dr Martin’s voice, a women wrapped in a cashmere sweater opened the door.

“What was that unholy laugh about? You scared…”

She didn’t get to finish the rest of her sentence. A shadow descended upon her, putting her frail neck into a chokehold. Choked squeals instead of words fell out of her wide open mouth. Manicured fingers clawed fruitlessly at the assailant, whose grip around her neck remained as unyielding as stone.

The woman’s frantic eyes found her husband and pleaded wordlessly. Dr Martin watched them silently, like a piece of furniture. Mrs. Martin’s eyes swelled with tears, eyeballs bulging out of her sockets, then they rolled into the back of her head and she was no more.

Panting heavily, Harry dropped the lifeless body to the floor. He found Dr Martin standing behind the desk where he left him, but a small river of tears had rolled down his cheeks and drenched the collar of his shirt.

Harry felt nothing when he strangled the woman with his bare hands, except perhaps a discomfort in his arms, but the muggle’s tears stirred something in him. Harry walked up to the doctor and wiped away his tears gently with bleeding hands.

“Shhhhh” Harry said soothingly, as if calming a small frightened child. “I wanted to show you that.” He explained “Between the monster and the victim, _I am_ the monster now.”

The muggle could do nothing but shiver against the grip of the curse.

“I will kill you tonight.” Harry leaned closer to taste the sour odor of fear in the air. He whispered against the muggle’s face, feeling the shivering grow stronger “There is nothing you can do to change that. Your fate is sealed. But I ought to tell you that it could have gone very differently.”

Harry believed that Dr Martin shouldn’t die filled with confusion and indignant anger. After all, Harry wasn't some indiscriminate burglar and the muggle wasn't a random target. He would open the muggle’s eyes. He’d make him witness to his vengeance and accomplice to his crimes.

“In the not so distant future, a government agent will knock on your door. You’ll find that many others have been secretly tracking down magic as well. Secretly compiling unnatural events and sniffing around muggleborn children. They’ll give you funding, connections, anything you need, like a dream come true. You join them, of course, and you would have gone on to become co-head of the Center for Supernatural Studies. You’ll have labs around the country. You’ll kidnap, imprison and conduct human experiments on over 60 wizards and witches. Most of them children below 13, I should mention.”

Harry’s words grew softer the more he talked, until it was barely more than a hiss.

“You rubbed shoulders with congressman, pushed the boundaries of science, your team even got nominated for a Nobel prize for outstanding contribution in the ‘taming’ of wizards. Had I not come here today, you would have had all that - ”

“How does knowledge of the future make you feel, I wonder? Will you find solace in that as I kill you?”

Harry let the muggle speak, curious how he would react at the intersection of life and death, as the river of time washed over them in reverse.

“Pl.please” The muggle blurted out “You don’t have to do this. I’m so, so sorry for what I’ve done to you! But I didn’t do any of that. That’s not me. I never hurt a soul. I promise I’ll never go anywhere near magic again please have mercy.”

Harry watched as the muggle broke down into a heap of sobbing, pleading mess.

“You are wrong.” Harry corrected “I did come from the future - partial credit for getting that right, but you didn’t do any of this -” Harry gestured in general at the collection of scars over his body “- to me.”

A silver of hope lit up the muggle’s eyes.

“You did that to my best friend. Your people took him from me.”

Harry felt the dull ache of the wounds along the edges of his face, and ran a reminiscent finger along it. This squashed any remnant of hope the muggle harbored, and he resumed to cry and grovel.

Harry was beginning to find it unenlightening and increasingly annoying. He didn’t know what he had hoped to hear, but still felt a dull resentment at the muggle for failing to deliver. Feeling that he had dallied long enough, Harry flicked his wrist and the muggle’s lips sealed shut again.

“Now back to business. Do you have a portable hard drive?”

Harry was pleased when the muggle nodded.

“Copy everything you have on magical children on there and hand it to me.”

The muggle moved in a way more similar to an Inferi than a man, but still did Harry’s bidding obediently. A foreboding silence fell over the room. There was no sound except the muggle’s labored breathing and the soft beeping of the computer as it exported data to the drive.

Harry took out the coin the muggle tossed at him earlier, fumbling with it playfully as he waited. It shone brightly wherever it caught the moonlight as it danced across his knuckles. Harry decided that it would make a fine vessel for a piece of his soul.


	2. The Undead makes a deal

After Voldemort fell, Hermione became the last living witch who knew the complete ritual for making a Horcrux. It barely crossed anybody’s mind as they buried the dead, rounded up the remaining death eaters, and made peace with themselves. This little fact didn’t leave a scratch on their pristine post-war lives. Even after war with the nonmagical broke out, after Hogwarts burned down and they were forced into relocation camps and then into hiding, not even the darkest wizards among their ranks suggested making Horcruxes.

Over time, Harry forgot how to properly cry whenever he lost someone. The magic he channeled became vile and filled with hatred. Every night his fingers itched, imagining they held the Resurrection Stone between them, and Harry regretted leaving it behind in the Forbidden Forest. Even then, he never considered the option of Horcruxes. They had all seen what happened to Voldemort, after all.

So when Hermione handed him all the information on the ritual, he knew the end was nigh.

He looked at the outstretched hand and the brown covered notebook.

“What’s this?” He asked.

“The pages on Horcruxes from _Magick Most Evile_ , as much as I could remember.” Hermione whispered. Her throat was destroyed back when Muggles flushed the tunnels and sewers with poisonous gas “I looked into redacted versions and variants, and added in the details.”

Harry didn’t move to take it. He looked around the room, and found most of his good fighters within earshot. It was as if they anticipated a confrontation.

“Why are you giving me this?”

Hermione didn’t even flinch. “I got word from the French resistance. Their contact in the government gave the green light. We move now.”

“I thought we agreed it’s a suicide mission.” Harry hissed.

“Time’s changed, Harry. If we don’t do something soon we’ll all slowly die out here.”

“We’ll find some other way.”

“What other way?” She questioned, and Harry knew her mind was made and beyond his reach “This might be the last chance we got.”

Harry couldn’t deny that. Their numbers had dwindled past a certain point. The pained groans of the wounded echoed in the otherwise silent cave they dug inside an abandoned coal mine and called shelter.

“If we can’t breach them back when we put up a good fight, what makes you think we can now?”

“Their contact in the government will make an opening for us to disable the magical security system for a while. We get in, plant the bugs in the heads of a few muggles, and get out. We’ll plant the idea in their subconscious that the war against magic needs to be stopped. I ran all the tests the muggles developed so far, and none of them was able to detect the bugs. Most importantly, it will make them believe that it’s their own idea.”

“Don’t tell me this plan doesn’t sound flimsy to you. What if something goes wrong?”

“If they learned what we had done, those politicians will try to find the bugs and start pointing fingers at each other” Hermione answered, circumventing the most glaring question here “Pray to Merlin that their grip around our throats will loosen, and give us the breathing room we need.”

Harry heard the phantom tumbling of chips. Pinned up against the corner, Hermione’s going all-in in a wild gamble. It went unsaid that if anything went wrong, some of them will be martyred on the spot, but ones captured alive won’t be as lucky.

“You’re betting all our lives on a Squib you never met. For all you know, this so called contact might be working for the Muggles all along and you’re walking right into their trap.”

“We have no choice.” Hermione answered for everyone.

Harry looked around. The unknown danger hung over everyone’s head like a cleaver. All around them, their fighters lowered their heads and bared their necks. He could go on and on about the loopholes of this reckless mission, but it wouldn’t have made any difference.

Harry sighed “I’m coming with you.”

“You should stay here and heal ..”

“Bullshit” Harry cut her off bitterly. He dropped his glamor and showed the jagged blackened hole where the left side of his face used to be “I’m as healed as I’ll ever be.”

Hermione looked away subtly and bit her lips.

“You need to stay where our people are.” Draco spoke in her stead “They cannot lose you.”

Harry dug his nails into the wood of the already scarred Holly wand, a habit he developed nowadays to quell forceful bursts of magic. He shot a glare at the pale-faced man, arguments ready to fire on the tip of his tongue, but found himself staring into a look of emptiness. Here were the looks of a man who wanted it all to be over. Harry desperately searched the faces of the others, looking for the faintest sparkle of hope or attachment. But he saw them for what they were, soldiers too broken and exhausted to be bothered with casting a cleaning charm on themselves.

Harry could not bear to see that same look on the face of every wizard and witch he would leave behind, the children and the wounded. For some twisted reason, he was their last hope.

Hermione gently reached up and wrapped her arms around him. Her thin arms were as heavy as the chains binding him to this rat hole that was their shelter. When she pulled away, Harry feared that she was saying goodbye.

“Protect yourself” Without even realizing, Harry had grabbed on to her wrist hard enough to leave bruises “I can’t lose you.”

Harry wasn’t sure if she understood what she meant to him, or what losing her would do to him.

“I will look after myself.” Hermione answered softly. Her words gave Harry courage to steal a look into her eyes, and the sight of them struck like a hammer to his chest. They were just as empty. They may blink and move but were otherwise the same as the eyes of a corpse, resigned to a fate of becoming food for worms.

Harry grabbed the notebook, still floating where she left it, and held it to her open-palmed like offering sacrifice to a goddess.

“It’s a suicide mission.” He pleaded “Don’t die on me, Hermione, please.”

Silence hung between the dirt walls of the abandoned mine. Harry couldn’t give voice to what he expected of her. The words were stuck like molasses to his throat.

A pained look crossed Hermione’s face. “I won’t do it.”

“Please, give it some thought…”

“What’s the point, Harry? So I can lead some inhuman existence, keep hiding and running and killing muggles just to survive?” She raised her voice and it cracked “It’s not fair that you ask me to mutilate my soul for you.”

Harry’s hands hung in the air where she refused to take the book. The next second he threw it at her face, fragile pages tearing and settling at her feet. “Is it fair for me then?” Harry heard a furious roar from himself “You get to die fighting, and leave me cursed with this? Why did you give me this book, Hermione?”

Her frail frame shuddered.

“Answer me!”

The fear etched across Hermione’s face stabbed him where it hurt the most, and he immediately deflated. He reined in all that magic sizzling around him, bottled it up and buried it deeper inside.

Hermione let out a shaky breath. “It’s not fair. None of it is.”

Without bothering to pick up the pages, she turned to leave.

“Do you still blame me for what happened to Ron?”

The words left his mouth before he could register it. Harry wished he could swallow his own tongue and die, or this coal mine would collapse upon him before he had a chance to hear her response.

When Hermione turned to look at him, there wasn’t any sign of hatred or grief he expected to find. There was only the same emptiness.

“I can’t offer the forgiveness you seek, Harry, when I don’t know where to look for it myself.”

Those were the last words she ever said to him. Two weeks later, the muggles live streamed putting a bullet through her head on every available channel. Later on the same day, through an old rebel wizard’s communications line the muggles cracked, they sent him footage of them sawing the head off her corpse, demanding his unconditional surrender, etcetera etcetera. 

When Harry staggered out of the dead doctor’s house a newly made immortal, naturally he thought about Hermione. He tried to remember the way she laughed when they won a Quidditch game, or frowned when she didn’t know the answer to a question, and how she used to get upset by the smallest things like something silly Ron said. Harry had a hard time. His memories were addled by the burning pain in his soul. If it all went according to plan, he would see Hogwarts and his friends again soon. The thought of that felt too surreal, so Harry didn’t dwell on it.

The street outside was blanketed in a warm orange glow from the lights of the residences. A gigantic hairy spider, stitched together by different types of cloth, crouched in the doctor’s front yard. Not so far away Harry “saw” small groups of children heading home with baskets full of sweets and heard their giggly screams.

Not trusting himself to Apparate, Harry walked along the road and looked for an obscure alley or corner to summon the Knight Bus. It wasn’t his favorite mode of transport, but it will get him where he needed fast with the help of a little Confundus, since he didn’t have any wizarding money on him.

Not long after Harry was a safe distance away, a string of smoke seeped through sealed windows. With a loud bang that seemed to shake the very ground beneath, the house with the giant spider blew up in flames.

The bright glow of flames lit up the shocked, young faces of a group of muggles before him. A girl no older than sixteen appeared to be chaperoning this group of kids. Standing there with her mouth hung open, she seemed to have completely forgotten her duty to console the frightened kids. The next second, she lurched towards the burning house.

“Mom!” Harry heard her scream as she raced past him “Dad!”

Harry turned abruptly and watched her. The girl became smaller and smaller in his vision as she got further and further away until she reached the burning house.

“Get away from the house Elena!” Some muggles screamed at her.

Harry could feel the flames pulsing throughout the house, ravenous for wood and flesh. It had the signature of his own magic all over it. The girl tried to open the door but yelped when the handle burnt her hand like hot iron. The next second, another wave of explosion shattered the wooden shell of the house and swallowed her up instantly.

Harry seemed frozen in place, until the cries of the children startled him awake. The group of kids who just witnessed their chaperon burnt to a crisp scurried and squeaked like a group of rats, precious candies left trodden on the ground as they ran away.

A chubby boy must have tripped and fell. He sat howling cradling a bloody knee, but couldn’t manage to get up by himself with the ridiculous chocolate donut costume around him. Harry picked up his pumpkin shaped bowl of candies, shoved it into his hands, and helped him up.

“Go home to your parents.” Harry told him. The boy nodded forcefully and ran away as fast as a donut could.

Distant sirens signaled the fire brigade’s approach. When the boy got home, he watched the firefighters put out the fire through the window, as he lied safely in his parents’ arms. The following morning, he counted the candies in his pumpkin basket and found a shiny 20 pence among them. Not giving it a second thought, he stored it away in the piggy bank. When the piggy got full he could get more of his favorite candies.

* * *

A person’s immune system can eliminate an infection in three days. Harry doubted his body could last that long in this unwelcoming universe. His magic kept faltering and his “vision” blurred. Fortunately he knew his way around Knockturn Alley well. Its residents experienced with a life in hiding, this place lasted much longer than Diagonal after muggles declared basically every potion ingredient and magical artifact contraband. For a short while, Knockturn became the artery that kept magical communities afloat. But right now it’s still a dingy alley that smelled of garbage.

Harry slid inside the old Borgin and Burkes. The walls were lined with cursed trinkets with the occasional powerful artefact. On a cushioned podium, a ram’s skull burned with artful blue flames.

“Ah, care for a little decoration for Samhain?” The stout man behind the counter caught him looking and said “It keeps evil spirits away while the fire is burning. Great taste, I must say. It’s also on sale.”

“Before you make more sales pitch and make my ears bleed, Borgin” Harry said “I’m here for the vanishing cabinet.”

“Of course, of course.” Borgin rubbed his hands and tried to furtively peek at Harry’s face under his hood “I have just the one at a very reasonable price.”

“It has a twin currently inside Hogwarts, and it’s broken. I need you to tell me how to fix it and help me transport a few items.”

“Am I glad that you already seem so well informed of the product. Have I had the pleasure of doing business with you before, mister..?”

“Potter.”

“Mister Potter, I’m afraid we are an antique shop and we don’t participate in the operation of the products once they are off our hands. But I’ll gladly sell you the cabinet, with everything you need to fix its twin, in a sweet package deal. Would you like to examine the cabinet..”

“I don’t have any gold.” Harry confessed.

Borgin’s cloyingly sweet smile was dropped in a heartbeat and replaced by a foul look “The door’s that way, then. Come back when you intend to do business.”

“I would offer to pay you back later, but I guess you wouldn’t take that ” Harry said in good humor.

Borgin leered at him “You stink so much of death, Mister whatever your name is. I don’t think you’ll live to pay me back. Bugger off and die somewhere far away from my shop or I’ll sell your parts as potion ingre…”

The oily faced man made a gurgling sound like he was punched in the lungs. The sudden burst of magic that hit him seemed to make the air too thin to breathe and gravity tenfold stronger. Borgin reached for the table and supported himself on wobbly knees.

“Try anything to hurt me in _my_ shop” Borgin bit out “you won’t dream of stepping out of here alive.”

Harry swallowed the rush of blood to his throat from using his withering magic. He took a moment to scan the seemingly disorderly shelves, no doubt laid with wards and contraptions, ready to terminate any robber at a flick of Borgin's finger.

“But Voldemort killed Caractacus Burke in this very shop, didn’t he? Because Burke was too gossipy” Harry asked casually “Are you a gossip, Mr. Borgin?”

“H, how..” Borgin's face turned sickly pale. The shock quickly soured into anger, however, as Borgin wiped off the sweat on his forehead and glared at Harry “I don’t care how you know, but you don’t scare me! Huh! If any death eater scum on the run thinks they can shake me down, this shop wouldn’t still be standing today.”

The suffocating weight of magic in the air was suddenly gone. Harry bent over and laughed. He laughed so hard that he actually coughed up blood this time, almost spraying Borgin in the face.

“Oh excuse me” Harry wiped his lips with his sleeve “But a death eater? I couldn’t help myself.”

Borgin muttered something foul, no doubt believing he was mad. Before he got kicked out or worse, Harry strolled over to a corner next to the counter and kicked at the wall where the plaster peeled off, revealing a small hidden compartment.

To Borgin’s utter shock, Harry rummaged through his secret stash of fine wines and took out a bottle.

“Rest assured, I have no intention of robbing you” Harry said as he conjured two glasses and placed them on the counter “I ask for the cabinet and your dedicated help, and in return I give the most valuable information in this world -”

Harry filled their cups “Knowledge of the future.”

Borgin huffed but kept listening, as if appraising a suspicious antique.

“Oh and” Harry swept his robe to the side, revealing burnt flesh and a gaping hole in his chest. He reached a finger inside the chamber of his heart, and fished out what looked like a shriveled piece of black fabric “The skin shed by a little World Serpent.”

Borgin almost jumped on his toes. He studied Harry’s face with eyes wide as saucers, with a mixture of greed and admiration. He tapped the ashtray on the counter. The front door locked itself and the sign flipped to “CLOSED”.

“Who are you, really?”

“My name is Harry Potter. I don't take you for a gossip, Mr. Borgin?”


	3. Little Harry falls down the rabbit hole

_Harry pointed his nose to the sky and tasted the storm. It tasted like damp, cold soil, and a thousand different types of ferns and pines. His instincts screamed danger. He wanted to find shelter, preferably a hole in the tree, and wait the storm out. But Harry willed his tiny paws to carry him against the rain. He darted between the bushes. The rain grew heavier, pelting against his red fur, as the trees around him grew denser. Harry knew this meant he was getting closer._

_Hogwarts. He recited the name in his mind like a sacred mantra._

_Dragging his soaked tail behind him, Harry climbed up and across the trees. The storm kept rattling the branches beneath him. Just as he made a jump for the next branch, an especially fierce gust of wind knocked him off his feet and sent him tumbling in the air. He would have fallen to the ground, but thanks to the dense foliage, he landed on a lower branch._

_Harry felt a dull pain in this body, and it wasn’t just from the hitting the tree branch. It felt as if his own limbs were scared of him and trying to break away. Harry took a minute to soothe himself by grooming and shaking the rain off his fur. As soon as he felt more collected, he marched on._

_There was a natural rhythm to the climbing, jumping and sliding. Harry let his body take control. All the leaves and branches started to look the same as he kept on going and going. Suddenly, Harry paused and stood on his hind legs. He sensed the familiar aura of ancient magic in his very core. His soul yearned to submerge itself in it. If squirrels had tear glands he would have wept, instead he squeaked in excitement…_

“Wake up!”

The forest was stripped from his eyes and replaced by a blur of red. Panicking, Harry squinted to figure out where he was. He was inside the familiar Gryffindor four poster bed. Turning his head, he saw a very furious Oliver Woods and a worried looking Ron standing by his bed.

Harry reached for his glasses by the bedside and shoved them on his face. When he realized that Woods was already wearing the Quidditch team’s scarlet robe, he gasped in horror.

“What time is it?” Harry asked dreadfully.

Woods seemed too upset to form sentences “The match. With Hufflepuff. In ten minutes.”

Harry propelled himself out of bed, and almost stumbled when he tried to stand on his hind legs without a tail to keep his balance.

“If you are sick...”

“No I’m okay!” Harry quickly said “I overslept. I’m sorry!”

Wood’s jaw tightened like he bit on something especially hard . He gave Harry a rather disappointed look and left without another word. Harry scrambled to the washroom to splash water on his face and pulled his Quidditch team robe over him.

Ron trailed behind “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Harry mumbled a yes as he spit out the toothpaste.

“Merlin, Woods was so mad. I mean it _is_ Gryffindor’s first game. At least we’re not playing against Slytherin…”

“Why are you talking like we lost already?” Harry snapped “And why didn’t you wake me?”

“Your curtains were drawn.” Ron protested “We all thought you got up early, like most times you have a game.”

With less than ten minutes till he automatically loses his spot in the match, Harry realized he didn’t have time for conversation and stormed out of the room. Ron seemed to be thinking the same thing, and caught up quickly with him. 

There was a menacing storm outside. Harry was soaked to the bones by the time he got to the Quidditch field. The wind was so strong it almost swept him off his feet. Just like in his dream, Harry thought. He mentally cursed the stupid dream with the stupid squirrel, and resolved to wipe it completely from his memory so he can focus his mind on the game. With increasing dread, Harry wondered how he could even see the Snitch in this horrid weather.

Despite the raging thunderstorm as well as the threat of the Dementors roaming around campus, the bleachers were filled to the brim. The entire audience had their eyes trained on Harry as he ran to his spot on the team, Nimbus Two Thousand in hand. Some people in Gryffindor whistled and cheered, making him feel slightly better.

The Hufflepuffs already formed a line on the opposite side. Madame Hooch motioned and the Captains stepped forward and shook hands. Cedric, the Hufflepuff Captain, said something smiling, but Harry couldn’t make out anything over the loud roaring of rain and thunder. He saw Madame Hooch’s mouth form the words “Mount your brooms”, and swept his leg over the Nimbus.

With a piercing ring from the whistle, their first match of the year officially started. Harry felt a hot rush in his chest and took off in the air. He rose rapidly into the sky and surveyed the court. Through glasses dripping with rain, his teammates looked like nothing more than blurry dots. He could fly around for hours straight without catching a glimpse of the Snitch.

 _Suddenly, his paws skidded against the slippery stone slabs._ Harry lunged forward on the broom in an attempt to steady himself. _He felt his tiny body tumble in the wind, before grasping onto a thin vine just in time. He kept climbing the castle walls, following the distinct smell of humans lurking under the scent of earth and rain. He could hear faint buzzing of noises. There must be a lot of them gathered together._

Out of the corner of his vision, Harry saw a black dot hurtling at him. He swerved as fast as he could, and the Bludger swooshed by right past him, brushing the twigs of his broom. Panting heavily, Harry looked down at his own hands to make sure they were still attached to his human body, and tightened his grasp on the broom. He wasn’t climbing the castle in a squirrel’s body – he was hovering hundreds of feet up in the air. Harry fought to keep his mind on the game, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was living inside two bodies at the same time.

Harry caught a glimpse of Hufflepuff’s Seeker flying along the perimeter. Gritting his teeth, he drove his broom to that direction, trying to overtake him. Harry forced himself to focus, but the next second, he was seeing the Quidditch field from an entirely different angle.

_Perched on a tree directly above a row of Hufflepuffs, Harry could see a swarm of hats and umbrellas. The court looked massive, while the players in the sky looked as tiny as flies. Harry sniffed again. The scent of storm and humans were being quickly eroded by a rotting smell, a unique combination of bitter fear and sweet decay. It must be the Dementors. Ah, how he detested these creatures…_

Harry snapped out of his reverie. Was this really happening? Was someone cursing him again? A whirlwind of questions swirling in his mind, Harry struggled even to keep his broom steady against the wind. He struggled even harder to get a clear view of the field, while streaks of rain crawled all over his glasses. Harry squinted at the Hufflepuff bleachers. But from this far up, it was impossible to make out any squirrels hiding in the tree. The students looked like an ocean of umbrellas and black cloaks…black cloaks.

Cloaked skeletons poured over the bleachers. Harry felt a familiar coldness overcome him. He thought the rain was freezing, but this coldness seeped from the inside out. The howling of the wind and the clamoring of the crowd disappeared. All he could hear in the new, soundless world was the screaming of a woman.

“..Not Harry!”

“Please no, take me, kill me instead!”

It was like someone dropped him into a jar of icy water and then screwed close the lid. He was drowning and _falling_. Gravity pulled him down and down until the last shimmer of light was gone. Floating in darkness, Harry heard voices whispering around him.

“Time out! Time out!”

“…Look a silver bird!”

“It’s Dumbledore. He’s driving away the Dementors.”

Harry couldn’t comprehend a word of what they were saying. His thoughts felt frozen in the dark waters. Then his world switched again. Light and color bled into the darkness before his eyes.

_Harry stood at the edge of the Quidditch field. The boy – how young he looked – lied unconscious from him several feet away. Fortune smiled on him at last._

_This was his chance, he thought, not even Dumbledore’s watchful eyes would notice a tiny squirrel in this sudden chaos. He leapt forward and squeezed himself out of the cocoon of flesh. Like a snake, or a wisp of smoke, he slithered towards the boy. The ground was muddy and soft, but he made no footsteps. There was only the faint ruffling of grass._

_Harry saw himself sprawled unconscious on the ground, but he didn’t seem to have any injuries on him. Even his glasses sat perched on his nose in one piece._

_Finally. Harry felt elated as he plunged himself into the boy._

“Not Harry! Please…have mercy…have mercy…”

The woman screamed again.

Harry woke in horror. He didn’t understand what was going on, but he remembered feeling something foreign penetrate his body. He recalled _being_ the thing that tried to take over his body. That thing, whoever it was, felt so familiar yet so nasty at the same time, it made his skin crawl.

He expected to find himself in the Quidditch field or perhaps the hospital wing, but what he saw made him freeze. He was still trapped in the amid the dark waters, surrounded by nothingness. In the infinitely empty space, there was only one source of light, illuminating what looked like a baby’s nursery.

Harry’s breath hitched in his throat. A woman knelt on the ground before him. Harry had seen her face before reflected in the Mirror of Erised. 

He was _inside_ the nightmare created by the Dementors. 

“Stand aside, you silly girl” a tall figure said in a cold voice “…stand aside, now”. The man, along with the nursery, seemed faded in the darkness. But the lights shone brightly on the woman’s face, rendering life to every detail of her features as she begged.

“Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead —”

Harry knew what would happen next - how his mother died. He turned sharply and ran, not caring where his feet would take him, as long as he didn’t have to stare into her teary face again. Had he been kissed by the Dementors somehow? Maybe the consequences of having your soul sucked out is to be trapped in your worst memory forever.

It was like running on the smooth surface of a lake on a moonless night. The darkness around him stretched on and on, with no end in sight. No. Harry stopped in his tracks and blinked back the tears. He didn’t have a clue how long he had been running, but his legs didn’t feel sore at all. This place isn’t real. Harry told himself as he tried to reason with the endless darkness. Headmaster Dumbledore must have driven away the Dementors already. Harry thought about the weird squirrel visions, about the _thing_ that took advantage of his unconsciousness to enter his body. There was only one explanation. This must be the works of the escaped murderer Sirius Black! He must have escaped from Azkaban by hiding inside a squirrel, and now he's trying to infiltrate Hogwarts by taking over his body. Who else could have dragged his consciousness into this nightmarish landscape?

The dying screams of his mother still echoed in the air, trailing closely behind him. 

Harry still didn't know why he could see through Black's eyes and feel his thoughts as if they were his own. But his top priority now was to get out of this place. He cannot let Black succeed in possessing him! “I know who you are.” Harry demanded of the darkness “Let me out of here!”

As soon as he spoke the words, a door materialized before him out of thin air. It looked exactly like the door to the cupboard under the stairs, except it hovered in complete darkness.

“I’m not scared by you.” Harry told the door. He turned the rusty knob and swung it open. He expected to find the cramped little cupboard with his thin mattress and spotty blanket. To his surprise, however, the passageways of Hogwarts unfolded before his eyes. Harry’s starting to get the idea that nothing here makes physical sense. He took one last look at the darkness behind him and went through the door.

As soon as he stepped inside, his mother’s screaming was gone and replaced by a soft sound. It sounded like the unpleasant scratching noise Peeves liked to make on the chalkboard to annoy everyone. The walls around him were slightly faded and distorted, but having seen them for so many times, Harry recognized it easily. He was in one of the corridors leading up to the DADA classrooms. With no direction in mind, Harry decided to walk towards the classroom and see where that would take him.

When Harry rounded a corner, the red wooden floors split off abruptly into mossy colored tiles. Harry found himself standing before one of the corridors in the Dungeons. It was like a deranged mind tried to piece together fragments of Hogwarts but got it all wrong. Didn’t they say that Black went mad after spending so many years with the Dementors? The nursery housed Harry's worst memory, whereas the castle belonged to Black's. It was the only explanation that made sense. Harry just wished he wouldn't find his parents here. 

The annoying scraping sound grew louder, bouncing back and forth between the dimly lit walls. Harry made out the outline of a man standing with his back towards him not so far down the corridor and realized where the noise was coming from.

“Hello?”

The suspicious man gave no response. Harry couldn’t tell clearly from the back, but the man kept moving in a way like he was playing the cello. Though with the noises he made, he must be horrible at playing.

Harry dared walk closer. The figure didn’t seem to register Harry approaching at all, and continued moving his hands back and forth mechanically. The scratching sound started to grate on Harry’s nerves. He walked with his shoulder pressed against the wall to put as much distance between them as possible in this narrow corridor. Still, when he tried to walk past, the man’s elbow almost bumped into him.

Something hot splattered over Harry’s face. Standing right next to him, Harry saw that what he mistook for a cello was the kneeling corpse of a woman. One hand grabbing a fistful of brown, bushy hair, the musician sawed through her neck mechanically. The meat was sliced wide open, and the knife was chipping away slowly at the bone.

Horror poisoned him like the bite of a snake. Even as he fled, it turned his blood icy and made his limbs numb. The image of broken tendons, open veins and pieces of skin hanging by the edge burnt itself permanently into Harry’s mind. He wanted desperately to get as far away as possible, but he had to stop and gag. As it turned out, his stomach didn’t have anything to throw up in this insane dreamscape.

“Students, this way!”

Harry heard a man shouting and snapped his head up. He could swear there was nobody around him a moment before, but a small herd of students in Hogwarts robes came out of nowhere and ran right past him. They seemed terrified and covered in soot. Harry didn’t recognize any of their faces, and wondered if they went to Hogwarts the same time as Black.

“Come on, we need to go” A dark haired man shouted. Harry hesitated a moment before realizing the man was shouting at him.

“Are you talking to me?” Harry pointed a finger dumbly at himself.

“Follow the others!” The man repeated “Go to the kitchen. The house elves will protect you.”

Dumbfounded, Harry joined the wave of running students. The world around him seemed to shift. The next second, the ground beneath them rumbled like a hungry beast. The floorboards below him sagged and threatened to collapse. Hogwarts teetered on its feet like a Jenga tower on its last leg.

Harry looked out the window, and what he saw was almost more terrifying than the cello-man. He felt the heat on his face, scorching like hell. What remained of the castle was burning. Harry saw the owlery collapse into a pyre of flames. Hedwig! He thought, before he remembered this wasn’t really happening.

“It’s a dead end.” Somebody screamed. A gril next to Harry suddenly vomited, almost spraying all over Harry. Even the Weasley twin’s candies couldn’t have made someone throw up that violently. Her skin looked blistered and unnaturally red like a rotting tomato.

“What’s going on” the girl burst into tears and wailed “I want to go home.”

“Quit it” an older girl said coldly “Your parents left you to die with us, _Mudblood_.”

Before the entire group of students got all roused up, the dark haired man had caught up with them. “That’s enough!” He said. A couple of students sneered, but before they could open their mouths to say anything, the very ceiling collapsed.

All Harry could see was the bricks falling over his head. Some tried to conjure up shields in the split second window. Harry heard the dull sound of impact and cracking, stones rumbling and rolling. Slowly, he poked his head from under his arms. It was dark. He blinked and realized that he was staring into the bleeding face of the dark haired man, presumably a professor. The professor knelt over them like an unyielding shield. The only light source was the glistening shield coming from the tip of his wand, holding the entire weight of the castle above them.

“R..run” The professor said.

Harry scrambled up and started digging. He was able to reach through the shield and push at the jagged stones. His hands became slick with sweat and blood, but it was impossible. They were too heavy.

“Professor Longbottom!” Harry heard someone scream. Longbottom? Harry’s body went cold. He turned around to get a close look at the professor’s face, but at that moment, the shield had finally cracked under the pressure. Darkness came rushing at them.

Harry could do nothing but duck with his arms over his head and wait to be crushed. But the anticipated impact never came. With fresh tears in his eyes, Harry pulled his arms away from his head again, and saw that there was not one piece of rubble in sight. The castle still looked faded, but deadly serene. All the students and stones had disappeared like smoke.

Panting, Harry looked out the window. There was nothing but darkness, the same darkness that surrounded the nursery. It was like the world didn’t exist outside of the castle. Harry slumped down by the window sill. He looked at his hands, still grimy with blood and cuts from stone, and wondered whether what happened was real. Was there a Professor Longbottom when Black went to Hogwarts? But all that destruction couldn’t have possibly happened.

Harry hugged himself in silence. He tried to tell himself that Hogwarts had been standing for centuries, and Black was only trying to make him scared, but the sight of the castle aflame still haunted him. For the first time in a long time, Harry wanted to cry. At least when he fought Voldemort, he thought he knew what he was going up against. He always had something or someone to fight for. But nothing here made sense.

He was stuck in some obscure corner of Hogwarts now. Around him, a flight of moving stairs led down below into dark, unlit space. On the opposite side, what looked like stairs to the astronomy tower spiraled on and on, ending with a portrait of the Fat Lady. He had seen that portrait countless times - It was the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Harry felt a little strength in his legs again. He made himself get up and set to tackle the seemingly endless stairs before him.

“You won’t find pretty things in there.”

Startled, Harry snapped his head around and saw a young man in Auror’s robe.

“Dad?” Harry blurted out.

The smile on the man’s lips stretched wider. Realizing what he had said, Harry almost pressed his hand against his mouth in embarrassment. At first glance, the man looked strikingly like James Potter, but he was much paler and sharper. He also had bright green eyes. If not for his lack of glasses, Harry would think he was looking at an older version of himself.

Harry took a careful look around to make sure this wasn’t another trick to scare him. Somehow, the man’s physical resemblance made him more weary. It reminded him of a familiar feeling he couldn’t put into words, kind of like this hollow and deformed version of Hogwarts.

“How do you know what’s in there?” Harry asked.

“I don’t” the man shrugged “But nothing here’s pretty.”

"Did Sirius Black send you?" Harry stared at the man, half expecting him to turn and reveal Sirius Black living on the back of his head. 

The man huffed, like he heard something funny. "You know that can't be true. Quite the opposite, I'm here to save you."

Harry frowned, trying to keep his guard up “Are you real?”

The man tilted his head to the side, regarding him curiously. “I’m you. Are you real?”

“Don’t play games with me."

“Okay. Sorry. Couldn’t help myself tease you a little there” He threw his hands up in a good-humored way “Do you ever wonder how Hermione could take all those classes? Like she’s a genius, but she can’t just duplicate herself and go to two classes at the same time.”

Harry felt completely thrown off “Yes. But how do you know that? What’s that got to do with anything?”

“We’re on the clock here, so I’ll keep it short. I need you to trust me, Harry.” The man’s identical green eyes suddenly fixed into his, and Harry was shocked by how sincere they looked “Hermione’s been using what’s called a time turner. Professor McGonagall gave it to her. That’s why there could be two Hermiones taking different classes at the exact same time.”  


Harry’s eyes widened.

“A time tuner’s just entry level into intricate time magic, but I promise you’ll learn all about it when you get older. After all, I managed to travel back in time to save myself.” The man, the future Harry, smiled a little smugly “I’ve had this same conversation before, but from your side. Come on, let’s get out of this place.”

Future Harry stretched out his hand, waiting for Harry to take it. Harry’s heart fluttered. His future self was emanating such natural confidence and warmth, it reminded Harry painfully of their father. Did that mean he’ll be an Auror in the future? Will he have a family?

All previous doubts pushed to the back of his mind, Harry took the offered hand. His future self’s hand was icy cold, but it didn’t feel so bad when it’s wrapped around his shoulder protectively.

“Don’t worry.” Future Harry said “It’s one of our worse days. I promise it gets better from here.”

After a terrifying and confusing day and almost dying multiple times, Harry finally felt safe. If his future self was alive and well, albeit a little skinny, he would for sure get out of this place safely. Relaxed, he let the firm hand on his shoulder guide him.

“What happens now?” Harry asked curiously.

Future Harry pulled him in a little closer and smiled. Older and wiser emerald eyes sparkled in the torch light, and Harry could see all the beautiful things the future had in store reflected back in them. Suddenly, the grip on his shoulder tightened and the other hand flew at him, punching all the air out of his lungs.

Harry looked down, confused, and saw the end of a dagger pinned to his chest. It took a brief moment for his brain to comprehend what was happening. Screaming, Harry flung his arms wildly to break away. To his shock, he easily swatted the older man away like some fragile doll.

The older man lost his balance and hit the wall. “Fucking brat.” He cursed. The familiar face he wore stretched into a feral snarl as he pushed himself up the ground.

It’s all an act. Harry realized. This wasn’t him. It’s a monster, the one that’s trying to possess him.

The pain was tearing his chest apart. He could feel the tip of the dagger excruciatingly clear lodged deep inside of him. Harry tried to run away and fell to his knees. Will I die here? Harry’s vision blurred as he crawled away in a puddle of his own blood. He wouldn’t give up so easily. It was like with Quirrell in his first year – the man looked older but he was actually much weaker than him. He could defeat him like he defeated Quirrell…

The man lunged himself at the Harry, grappling for the dagger. Harry held his arms up to shield the attacks. The man’s strength was probably only half that of Harry’s, but he ruthlessly went after his weak spots and the gaping wound in his chest.

Punch back. Harry told his fists. But he was losing too much blood and every heartbeat felt like a strain on his body. His arms failed him and slumped. Harry’s vision went black when the curved knife was ripped from his chest. It stabbed him again in the stomach. Then again. Harry lost count.

The space around them shook violently as their surroundings started to crumble.

“…Please no, take me…”

Harry heard his mother’s voice one last time before the darkness consumed him.


	4. Borgin learns a lesson

For a second Harry suspected he was being held under the Imperius curse. How else could his existence feel so at ease and painless? His soul, or what’s left of it, slipped effortlessly into his younger body and latched hungrily onto the untarnished, nourishing magic core. Harry rubbed his cheek on the pillow, cherishing the brush of soft fabric against unblemished skin. Now that he had regained a human brain, memories started to fall into place. After his body had finally crumbled, he was reduced to nothing more than a wisp of spirit. Harry remembered the unbearable coldness more acutely than anything else. Even squeezing himself into rabbits and squirrels was preferable to the cold. It threatened to drive him mad, except that the single minded obsession of getting to Hogwarts kept him going.

At the crack of dawn, Harry opened his eyes to the first rays of pink light, and saw that he was in the Hospital Wing. In retrospect, He should have given his younger self more credit. The tenacious brat was hard to kill. But in the end there were no miraculous escapes - he tore the naïve, weak Harry to shreds and watched him die. Outside the window, the sun was slowly creeping up the horizon and enveloping the castle in a serene glow. For a while, Harry sat there and watched the sunrise.

He heard the footsteps before he saw them.

“You’re awake” The redhead said, rushing to his bed “Gave everyone quite a scare there.”

“How are you feeling?” The girl asked “Madam Pomfrey said you should have woken up hours ago, and couldn’t tell what was wrong with you.”

They looked like kids who haven’t grown into themselves, Harry thought. He had to match their faces to the shadows from a distant future. Then he answered that he felt fine.

“Figured you might be hungry when you wake up, I brought you some breakfast.” Ron said, handing him a messy wrap. Harry unfolded the wrapping made of napkins and found two pieces of buttered toast inside. They were still warm. The smell of butter instantly filled his nose. Harry suddenly felt ravished for food. The crunch between his teeth when he bid down lifted him from the world of stale, rationed food, of forcing himself to eat with half a jaw. Harry didn’t have time to savor the taste as he wolfed it down. He was suddenly hit with the full realization that he had traveled back in time and reclaimed everything he had lost.

Ron and Hermione exchanged frantic looks when tears rolled down Harry’s face and dripped into the toast. 

“The, the toast’s that good, huh?” Ron tried to make light of the situation. Harry grabbed both of them by the shoulder and started sobbing uncontrollably into the embrace.

“What is going on here?” Madam Pomfrey’s unmistakable voice asked. She barely had time to throw a jacket over her pajamas and rushed here at the sound of Harry’s howling.

Harry buried his head deeper against Ron’s robe and into the smell of marmalade and butter. “The dementors gave me nightmares” Harry answered in a muffled voice “I saw how You-Know-Who killed my parents.”

Ron gasped loudly and went rigid against him. Hermione patted him gently on the back.

“It’s not unusual to have prolonged nightmares after exposure to those creatures, especially for young students” Madam Pomfrey said with barely concealed indignance, but her voice softened as she turned to Harry “Please sit back, Mr. Potter. I need to perform a few tests.”

Slowly but quietly, Harry disentangled himself from the other kids. He wiped off the layer of fog that gathered on his glasses as Madam Pomfrey threw a series of diagnosis spells on him, which all produced puffs of colorful smoke.

“Does it mean he’s alright?” Hermione stared at the smoke tensely.

“He will be okay.” The nurse finally declared “But I want him to stay here for two night.”

“I knew you’d be fine” Ron whispered to him “Dumbledore himself drove away the Dementors and saved you. The fall didn’t even break your glasses.”

Green eyes, still puffy and stained with tears, sparkled brightly as Harry suddenly grinned. “I actually feel better than I’ve had in years, Ma’am. It’s waste of precious time to keep me here.”

Madam Pomfrey crossed her arms like Harry just made a lousy joke “I will let you know when you are fit to go, Mr. Potter”

“Will you at lease prescribe me some chocolate?” Harry asked.

Madam Pomfrey huffed, half amused and half disturbed. “Some chocolate to take with your potions --- Miss Granger and Mister Weasley, you two should get to your classes before you are late.”

“We should go.” Hermione agreed “Don’t worry Harry, I’ll bring you notes from every lecture.”

“We’ll be back later.” Ron promised.

Harry waved them goodbye cheerfully, and soon he was left alone again. 

Harry had little to do between a stream of visitors throughout the day. Most of them brought snacks that Harry constantly nibbled on when he wasn’t dozing off. Madam Pomfrey was a little shaken when he devoured the entire get-well fruit basket from the Quidditch team. She caved in to his request for more chocolate lest people think she was starving her patients in the Hospital Wing. Hagrid brought a bouquet of flowers that looked like withered cabbage. Harry was delighted and displayed it by his bed with a sticking charm.

Hermione and Ron showed up again around dinner time. Ron brought more snacks. Snape had been filling in as their DADA professor while Professor Lupin was indisposed. Harry giggled out loud at the idea of writing an essay for Snape. Hermione gave him a look that told him she would spend tomorrow in the library researching about Dementor induced brain damage. In the end, Harry convinced Ron (who didn’t need much convincing) to play chess with him instead of finishing his essay.

After his friends returned to the Gryffindor dorm, Harry waited for Madam Pomfrey to retire to her chambers. Reminiscently, he rubbed the Holly wand between his fingers, feeling the thrum from the unmarred wood. He casted the Disillusionment and Silencing charms on himself, and slipped out of the Hospital Wing quieter than a ghost. It was a bright night with a full moon. The small figure weaved through deserted corridors and passed a dozen snoring portraits, opening doors after doors to abandoned classrooms piled with garbage. At last, he found the right one. The broken cabinet lied in the center of the room collecting dust.

Harry charmed the door to make sure nobody would disturb him. Then he pointed his wand at the cabinet.

“Reparo.”

The broken pieces of dark wood and tiny splinters came alive and pieced themselves together seamlessly. Within seconds, an intact cabinet landed on the floor with a soft thud. The door swung ajar invitingly. But Harry knew the spatial magic woven into the wood couldn’t be fixed with a simple “Reparo”. It would take nights to rework the charms following Borgin’s instructions, or…

Harry stepped inside and closed the door.

In the dim basement under the infamous shop for all things dark and vile, Borgin paced restlessly along the work table. Parchments and vials were pushed aside to make room for a shriveled corpse. It looked like it had been dead for years. Liquified tissues dripped from rotting bones, filling the poorly ventilated room with a horrible stench. But Borgin knew only four days had passed since he died. Not long after Potter walked into Borgin’s shop, he began throwing up fits of blood. He had asked Borgin to Apparate them somewhere closer to Hogwarts. Borgin watched as Potter’s lungs collapsed, drawing their last breath.

Potter’s body had decayed in the most unnatural way even a dark curse cannot replicate. Borgin was beginning to understand the weight of his words when he said that the Universe itself resented his presence here. Within days Borgin became affected. The skin on his hands turned red and raw, vulnerable to the lightest scratch. Hair fell off his already balding head. No amount of spells could tell him what had infected him. Borgin looked at the grotesque corpse on the work table and feared himself in its place.

Fate doesn’t like being taken off the right course, Borgin thought frantically. Potter had promised him great knowledge and power. Once conflicts with muggles broke out, he could hold the lifeline of Wizarding economy in his hands. But what good would that do if he were dead? Perhaps, he was in way over his head getting involved in the time traveling business.

Borgin stopped in his tracks. He could disappear tonight. Fuck the war with the muggles. The Wizarding World can burn. But he will be safe. He will own the skin shed by the World Serpent…

Having made up his mind, Borgin’s eyes drifted to the cabinet sitting silently in the corner. He knew too much for Potter to let him go. But Potter was little more than a silver of ghost right now. He doubted the time traveler could obtain a decent body for himself, let alone the body of Harry Potter. Even the Dark Lord had remained in that pathetic state for years! But Borgin prided himself in taking extra precautions. Pointing his wand, a knotted, thin stick, toward the cabinet, Borgin would guarantee the death of anyone who steps out of it…

“I told you explicitly to vanish my corpse.” A child’s voice remarked behind him “But of course you couldn’t resist taking it.”

Borgin’s heart stopped. He whipped his wand to Apparate but screamed as he splinched himself. Borgin stared at the deep gash in his leg in shock. A part of him failed to comprehend the situation. How long had _he_ been here? How could anyone dismantle his prized protections and set up an anti-Apparition ward without him even noticing?

Harry snickered. “Didn’t mean to startle you there. The shop said closed, so I let myself in.”

“How?” Borgin rasped out.

“I heard this story back in my time” Harry strolled over to his own shriveled corpse for a closer look “The Weasley twins chucked an unfortunate fool into the broken cabinet at Hogwarts. He got stuck in a limbo space. With some dumb luck, he Apparated out of it even though he never passed the apparition test. So I thought, why not fix the cabinet from the inside with the tricks you taught me? That could be faster.”

Borgin felt his blood freeze. Potter had Apparated from the limbo between cabinets and sought him out. Had Potter known that he would curse the cabinet? Borgin stared at the boy, all bright eyed and soft faced in his pajamas, like he just rolled out of bed for a midnight snack. There wasn’t a smudge of death around him. Less than four days ago he was a skinless monster on the verge of death. Borgin came to the painful realization that he had misjudged the extent of Potter’s power.

“What were you about to cast on the cabinet?” Harry asked. As if reading Borgin’s thoughts, the boy’s pink lips stretching into a large grin. “Please, don’t let me interrupt.”

Borgin’s fingers trembled around his wand. Potter was playing with him like a cat playing with a trapped mice. But as long as they were in this basement, there were measures he could take as last resort. He could make Potter regret his arrogance…Or should he beg? He had no qualms throwing himself at Potter’s feet if it meant getting out of this in one piece.

How long had Potter been watching him? Borgin wondered. Why had Potter stopped him before he could cast the curse?

Slowly, Borgin lowered his bald head along with his wand. “I was about to put on alert charms - precautions in case another unfortunate student stumbles into the cabinet, Lord Potter. I was so pleasantly surprised by your visit, I have forgotten my manners.”

Borgin hopped on his unbroken leg and pulled out a plush armchair. Harry looked positively amused as he sat down.

“I have already prepared the items you asked for in your last visit.” Borgin smiled coyly. He produced a small bag and presented it to Harry.

Harry tossed it open. His old wand lied in there. But it was no more than a piece of rotten wood now, devoid of any magic. There was the portable drive he got from the good doctor, and a thick stack of paper.

“I have ‘printed out’ everything on there for you. But the muggle I used insisted that ‘mp4 files’ cannot be ‘printed out’ no matter how I tortured her…”

Borgin shivered when Harry burst out laughing, though this time the laugh seemed good natured.

“Wonderful, Borgin. You’re lucky I still have uses for you.”

“Ah, I’m most grateful to partake in the liberation of Wizarding kind” Borgin felt relief wash over him. He had made the right bet after all “How can I be of further service to you? I can send anything through the cabinet now that it is fixed.”

Harry picked up a quill from Borgin’s mess on the worktable and scribbled down a list. It read “a gallon of mercury, 200 Gold-freckled ladybug, 200 vials for storing memories.”

Keeping his questions to himself, Borgin carefully placed the list in his pocket. “Please allow me three days to obtain these for you.”

“I want them tomorrow” Harry said“I wonder, have you heard of radiation?”

“I..” Borgin stuttered at the sudden change of subject. Quicker than lightening, Harry’s small hands grabbed Borgin’s pink ones, making him yelp in pain.

“I told you to vanish the body, Borgin. Now it spread from my dead body to you.”

Borgin gulped. “I have learned the error of my ways, Lord Potter. Please help me break this curse.”

“A muggle weapon did this, Borgin. There’s no counter-curse. Wizards in my time developed a way to prolong life in this state, after many lives have been lost. But without the treatment” Harry tilted his head to ponder for a moment “You have about a month left to live.”

“Muggle weapon?” Borgin questioned, unable to suppress the suspicion leaking through his voice.

Not bothering to explain further, Harry vanished the body with a wave of his wand and shrunk the stack of paper until it fit snugly in his pajama pocket.

“You know where to come begging when your insides start to melt” Harry said in way of goodbye as he hopped into the cabinet “Later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self-quarantine writing. Stay safe everyone :-)


	5. Harry has a bad trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minor canon divergence w Teddy. In this story he inherited the werewolf trait.

"Beep"

"Beep"

"Harry James Potter" a mechanical female voice announced "You have, one, urgent message."

Harry grunted as he sat up and dug the heels of his palm into his eyes.

"What is it?" A sleepy child's voice asked from the upper bunk.

"I don't know yet." Harry said. He turned around and tucked the blanket in around the young boy. "Go back to sleep. There's some bread in the kitchen. Make sure to heat it a little before you eat."

"Okayy." The boy answered, dragging the last syllabus into a yawn.

Harry ruffled the boy's full head of vivid green hair gently.

"Beep" The artificial female voice beckoned again "Harry James Potter, you have, one, urgent message."

Harry walked over to the pale white wall where a screen the size of his palm was sealed in place at eye level, displaying one unread message. Harry clicked on it.

"Undersecretary Tanner requests your presence." It read "Please proceed to the Ministry office immediately."

Tanner. Harry instinctively put up his Occlumency shields to shut out images of fire that lit up waters of the Black Lake like lava. Keeping a blank look on his face, Harry gave a lingering look to the tiny camera fixed to the screen, and left without a word.

Harry wrapped himself in his thickest jacket, but the early morning cold was murderous. There was a storm the night before, and Harry had to hoist his foot from the mud with every step. Of course the Muggles chose this blasted place for the relocation camps, he thought, to keep them as cold and miserable as possible.

There was already a short line in front of the rations station. Two women quarreled loudly over their spots in the line in the otherwise hushed morning, and soon they were brawling in mud like a pair of muggles. Harry hugged his jacket closer and walked briskly by. He walked by housing compounds stacked like cargo boxes, endless screens, steel, and posters. He passed at least a dozen posters of Hermione's face plastered on the walls. The headline read "Magical citizens have a duty to report suspected terrorist activities". They chose the most unflattering picture of her, Harry thought, and that might be the only way for him to see her for the rest of his life.

The electrical gate at the security checkpoint slid open automatically as he approached. Harry felt the atmosphere around him shift as he stepped from one ward into the next. The patrol drone on his tail maintained the target on his back dutifully, until he reached the gate of the Ministry's office, a huge beast of steel painted white. There were gun touting guards at the door. They wore black combat boots and matching outfits decorated at the chest with a shiny Auror's badge. They must be new because Harry didn't recognize their faces.

"Please follow me." One of the guards said. Harry followed him into a brightly lit hall. They turned a few corners and Harry was put into one of the waiting rooms with plush sofas and authentic looking plastic plants. The guard left, shutting the door behind him. Harry knew the drill by now. He would be left here for however long it took for the Undersecretary to call upon him.

"…talk about Hurricane Ophelia" The flat screen television in the meeting room was playing a show "Is it possible, that it was caused by active wizard terrorist groups?"

"If you put it that way, it's certainly possible" A middle aged man pushed his glasses "But we must keep a, a uh level head here. It's certainly an unusual occurrence in that area of England, but data suggests that it's just as possible that the unusual weather patterns were caused by global warming -"

" – Maybe the wizards engineered global warming as well?" The anchor suggested and the guests shared a dry laugh. "Now Hurricane Ophelia has led to the deaths of hundreds of people and displaced many more. As we speak, the National Security Council is engaging in talks with their Ministry over how to salvage the damage."

"I believe there're many ways for our government to demand reparations" A woman in a pink suit said "We must enforce stricter regulation of magic within and outside of the relocation grounds. We should demand their medicine, the potions, for the people. They have had the means to cure diseases and fix broken bones and organs instantaneously, for ages. And they hid that all to themselves…"

The first guest cut her off "What you're proposing here is very dangerous. The reason I say we keep a level head, is we need to see the bigger picture instead of short term gains. Any negotiations with the wizards are inherently dangerous." The fat on his chin quivered as he put emphasis on the word "The wizards know they cannot match us head on. Their tactic is to plot in secrecy. We all know that the ex-PM has been personally threatened by the wizards in the past. The last thing we should do is exposing our leaders to their tricks and, and mind-control magics, in those so called deals."

The anchor suddenly leaned in "With all the talks of peace going on. How do we know that our government hasn't already been mind-magicked?"

The door swung open again and the news anchor's face disappeared over a black screen.

"Mr. Potter." Undersecretary Tanner walked in, followed by a thin stick of a woman who brought her own small parade of guards.

"This is Agent Lee from the National Security and Counter-terrorism group."

Harry stared at the patterns on the Tanner's suit blankly, barely acknowledging her presence.

"Time is short and I'll cut to the chase." Tanner said, rubbing his hands together with a smile plastered to his face. Harry looked at those soft manicured hands. The rest of the world seemed to fade around him. The hands were drenched in a pool of crimson blood from every child, wizard and witch from Hogwarts. He watched as rivulets of blood dripped from those fingers and bled into the lush carpets. He had barricaded his mind inside the Occlumency shields, but blood threatened to rise like a tsunami and flood his reality.

"We've been notified of a terrible incident in Suffolk" Tanner's voice carried on in the backdrop "A werewolf on the loose attacked a family of tourists, killing the parents and severely injuring the children. Our intel confirms that the werewolf has close ties to the active terrorist group led by none other than Granger."

Harry absorbed the information without arguing. Words carried no weight in this place, and every version of the truth eventually aligned with what they want it to be.

"You can imagine the public outrage the news will cause, especially in such delicate times." Tanner seemed to grow more comfortable as he spoke, and sat down on the armchair across the room. "As a result, we are forced to reconsider our policy decisions regarding magical creatures, which includes shutting down all relocations camps for magical creatures. It was a difficult decision to make. But our governments have come to an agreement on the humane elimination of everyone infected with lycanthropy, effective immediately."

Harry's ears rang with echoes of the word. He looked up, for the first time since stepping into the room, at the Senior Undersecretary to Ministry of Magic. All his disgust for the man transformed into a blinding rage that obliterated the shields he put up around his own mind. He could hear nothing but the haunting screams of the dead and the word -

Elimination

"But an exception can be made!" The muggle woman all but screamed.

Harry blinked, and saw the dark muzzles of five guns trained at his head. Tanner laid panting on the sofa, face white as a sheet of paper.

"We, we understand the unique situation of your godson…" The muggle woman struggled to catch her breath in a dignified manner.

"Teddy Lupin" Tanner supplied in a small voice.

"Your godson Lupin. We can work towards a concession for minors born with the disease, " The woman said slowly, "provided that they are under the right guardianship."

"You would take him?.."

"That's not what we're suggesting here, Mr. Potter. Please take a seat." Tanner resumed rubbing his hands together shakily "Let's not throw our magic around like barbarians."

Harry just realized he had stood up, and slowly sat back down. The muggle guards didn't lower their aim on him.

Looking substantially more at ease, Tanner carried on "The Ministry of Magic has been very sympathetic with your condition, Mr. Potter. We've done our utmost best to keep you and your godson safe. There's nowhere else in England, hell in the entire Europe, where you may find such a steady supply of Wolfsbane Potions."

Except in those labs. Harry thought but kept his mouth shut.

"Despite the unfounded rumors about your ties to the terrorist leaders, the Ministry still respect you as a hero against wizard fascism. Your friendship with the us has shown the world how muggles and wizards can coexist in peace." Tanner said with a hint of earnest "We are willing to put a dangerous werewolf in your custody, conditional that we know how you stand on the Dangerous Creature Eliminations Act. Do we have your continued support, Mr. Potter?"

Harry's eyes stared blankly, like spheres of unpolished green glass.

"I need a guarantee."

Tanner stole a glance at the Muggle woman, who gave an affirmative nod.

"You have the Ministry's word." He declared.

What happened next felt like an out of body experience. Harry let them hand him the script. The muggle woman left immediately after the deal was struck, her small army of guards trudging after her. Tanner complained about his unkept appearance and called in a makeup professional. In fact, an entire film crew trickled in. The girl who combed his hair and shaved his face touched him timidly like he carried some infectious disease.

Harry was put in front of a mirror lined with shiny bulbs. He could see every stark detail of his face in the bright studio lighting. Despite the sharper lines and wild stubbles, he saw the green fifteen year old boy staring back at him. The Boy who lived. The Chosen one. Poster boy against dark forces. Ambassador of peace. Times changed but the same puppet danced to different tunes. Harry tilted his head for the girl to better apply the blush on his cheek. He looked into the camera, sympathized with the attacked muggle family and offered his prayers. He solemnly introduced the new Act.

But something has changed secretly under the surface. He wished Teddy was never born and he was never asked to be his godfather. What a horrible thought that was. As he assured the muggle world that sensible wizards stand by their side for peace and harmony, he fantasized about murder. He imagined slipping his hands into Tanner's warm blood and pulling out his gut. He'd slice out the traitorous tongue that spilt all of magic's secrets, and cut off the hands that pointed them to Hogwarts. He watched as Tanner shrieked under the Cruciatus curse until the last bit of life drained from him.

He hadn't killed him yet, but inside the Occlumency shields of his mind he was already a murderer.

A deluge of blood flooded the halls of his mind.

The eyes of a dead muggle glazed over.

Thrilling pulses of his magic, a dark curse at the tip of his wand.

"H-Harry?"

Harry snapped out of it. Across from him stood a brown leather armchair with crimson cushions. The fire crackled softly in the fireplace. A round faced boy stood behind the armchair. His presence was so unimposing Harry didn't see him at first. There was a pounding in his head that seemed to come from deep within, tingling the scar over his forehead.

It took Harry a second, finally the boy's face slipped in place with his memories.

"Hi, Neville"

Neville gulped. "Your parchment is on fire."

Smoke drifted up from the stack of paper he was holding. On the first page, eerie black flames danced over the headshot of a boy in baby blue sweaters.

"Case 7: Toby Tanner" The neat print read "First child and heir to the Tanner oil and natural gas empire. Disappeared from public view in 1986 (age 8). Around the same time, former socialite mother (Sophia Tanner) began living as a hermit after reported 'freak incident' at charity gala, resulting in minor injuries for three guests (exhibit 1, 2). Age: 15. Address: ..."

Harry stumped out the flame with his thumb. The paper sizzled. When he lifted his hand, only a burnt hole remained where the boy's face was.

"How clumsy I was. There." Harry said, and tossed the stack of paper into the fireplace.

Neville watched the orange flames gobble up the white pieces of paper nervously.

"I thought you were reading it."

Harry stood up to collect his things "I already found what I wanted. What are you doing up this early anyway?"

Neville seemed slightly embarrassed "I want to finish breakfast early. That way I'll have enough time to get to class."

Harry smiled warmly. "Let's go together then. We have Defense first class right?"

Neville nodded and followed Harry as he strode out of the Gryffindor common room.

"Merlin I'm starving." Harry muttered.

Neville shivered as a breeze brushed past them and felt his shirt stuck to his back. For some reason he had been drenched in cold sweat during the minute they were in the Common room. Still feeling a little paranoid, he glanced at Harry's eyes. They seemed crystal green under the sunlight.

Nana always said I worry too much, he thought. It must have been the fireplace reflected in those eyes that gave them the shade of fire.


	6. Toby meets a friend

Snape hovered over Ron, who shifted uncomfortably on his stool.

“Mister Weasley” the silky voice asked, dripping with sarcasm “Which potion did I instruct you to brew?”

“The rapid ripening?” Ron looked at his cauldron unsurely. It looked like a pile of steaming milky green vomit.

“And yet, you have managed to produce pure poison. One point from Gryffindor for failing to follow basic instructions.”

Vanishing the content of the cauldron with a swish of his wand, Snape strode past Hermione without sparing a glance at her perfect crystal green potion, and came to a stop behind Harry’s work station. Hastily cut slug pieces were strewn around the table, with smaller bits hanging off the mouth of the cauldron. Inside the cauldron, however, the potion was a fine shade of crystal green, albeit not as shimmering as Hermione’s perfect sample.

Harry felt Snape’s scorching glare on his back. The messy haired boy was propped up against an even messier table, chin resting on his hand. Amid rows of terrified Gryffindor third years, he had the audacity to look rather bored.

He had no doubt that Snape wanted to reach out and dunk his head into the bubbling cauldron.

“Dreadful coloring” Snape seethed.

“I disagree, sir” Harry peered up at his professor through fluttering lashes “I think it matches the green of my eyes.”

The entire classroom fell dead silent. Even the bubbling of cauldrons sounded loud in the sudden vacuum of sound. Ron looked like he just swallowed his tongue trying not to laugh, while Hermione stared at him in disbelief. Snape practically growled at him like a large black cat with his tail stepped on.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor for talking back at your professor, attention seeking, arrogant, reckless conduct and poor hygiene, and detention with Filtch until Yule!”

After they were dismissed from Potions, half of the class was looking at Harry with part awe and part resentment.

“Why did you do that?” Hermione looked like she wanted to pull Harry’s hair out.

“How are we going to earn back twenty points?” Even Ron looked a bit pale.

“Yea Potter.” A familiar voice called out “Kiss goodbye to the House Cup, not that you stood a chance to begin with.”

For a second, Harry felt like he was sucked into a memory and watching the past on replay. Turning around, he saw Malfoy walking towards them with swagger and a wicked grin.

“Malfoy” A small nostalgic smile tugged at Harry’s lips. “You’ll be sorry when we beat Slytherin at Quidditch.”

“You wish, Potter. If your captain’s any good, he wouldn’t let you play another game. Oh, look, Dementors on the Quidditch field,” Malfoy pretended to swoon like a terrified damsel, “What if Potter falls from his broom again and cracks his head?”

“The hippogriff should have aimed for _your_ head.” Ron bit out.

Knowing that his parents’ deaths were behind Harry’s fear of Dementors this time around, the pair of loyal friends glared daggers at Malfoy, all thoughts of house points put behind them.

“Oh. Haven’t you heard?” Malfoy baited.

“Heard what?” Ron asked “Spit it out.”

“My father said that beast is going to be put to death for attacking me.”

Hermione took in a chilled breath. Malfoy and his goons grinned smugly at the shocked look on Hermione and Ron’s faces. Harry’s expression on the other hand, went unnaturally blank. He vaguely recalled a hippogriff called Buckbeak. Quite frankly, he hadn’t spared a thought about it since he was back. But the execution of magical creatures unearthed unpleasant memories from the depth of his mind. He felt a rush of blood, like something was eager to crawl out of the boy’s skin he wore and taste blood.

“Just ignore him. Ignore him, Harry. It’s not worth it.” Hermione said, holding on to Harry’s sleeve like he was going to do something reckless. Harry felt the ground beneath his feet again. He pulled at Ron to keep him from starting a yelling match with Malfoy in front of the potions classroom. The trio turned around and quickly left.

“That can’t be possible.” Ron said indignantly “It’s not fair.”

“We need to tell Hagrid about this.” Hermione said “We’ll talk about this later. I can’t be late for my next class.”

“Don’t - ” Ron began, but Hermione already disappeared into the nearest corridor like a gust of wind.

“Don’t we have Divination together next?” Ron asked Harry confusedly. Harry shrugged, only paying a fraction of attention to their conversation. He was slightly annoyed over his recent episodes of outbursts. He felt the grip over his freshly-acquired mind slipping. The Horcrux’s side effects must be more pervasive than he expected. Or maybe he had long gone mad after years of surviving over a trail of dead bodies. For a student in peace time, the definition of sanity was bounded by a very narrow set of behaviors. Harry turned the idea over in his mind briefly, and realized that he didn’t care a whiff as long as he accomplishes what he came for.

Harry had made plans for every possible scenario after he summoned the Serpent. For starters, what if he was too late and magic’s existence had already been exposed? What if he went back too far, and no one he knew had even been born?

It was just as likely that he would not survive long enough to make a Horcrux. In that case he could only give all of his memories to someone like Dumbledore and hope for the best, and hope was not his strongest suit. In the ceaseless torrents of time, he was like a speck of dust trying to land precisely on one ripple. He was fortunate to find himself in 1993 in his third year. However, Harry was not expecting to spend valuable time in 1993 squishing slugs into a cauldron with Snape breathing down his neck. He grew more and more restless in his own skin.

Only a few things to put in motion at Hogwarts, Harry told himself. Then the game is on.

When they arrived at the trap door leading to the Divination classroom, Hermione suddenly reappeared. She waved and joined them as if she did not just run off moments earlier. Ron stared at her.

“What’s the matter?” Hermione asked “Is there something on my face?”

When they climbed the teetering ladder to the Divinations classroom, Ron leaned over and whispered “She’s finally gone bunkers.”

Once they were in the stuffy attic, Harry was hit with the pungent smell of a dozen perfumes and incense all at once. He inconspicuously hit himself up with a cooling charm as his classmates sweated into the stifling heat.

Professor Trelawney looked dazedly at their general direction. Chains of numerous metals and beads threatened to snap her spindly neck. Her hair looked like she had been dragged over the gutter, and she had a white cast over her right leg.

“What happened to her leg?” Harry asked, sifting through his memories for an explanation.

“Don’t you remember?” Hermione looked at him weirdly “She fell off the ladder last week when she suddenly ‘had a vision’ and broke her leg. She refused to take any potions because it would ‘cloud her Inner Eye’. She screamed the whole time when Madam Pomfrey set her bones.”

“A vision? Like a prophecy?”

“I don’t think there was a prophecy, Harry.” Hermione said, looking at Trelawney pitifully “The poor woman just slipped and fell.”

“Bet you think she’d be able to predict that.” Ron quipped.

Harry was almost entirely sure that Trelawney had never broken a leg over a vision in the past. He wanted to ask more, but Trelawney began in a soft, airy voice: “Welcome, students. It was good to see you again in the flesh. The Sight had chosen to reveal the future to me at an inopportune moment last week. I was unable to carry on with the bustles of the physical realm. But worry not, my Inner Eye sees all of you always, no matter the distance between our earthly bodies.”

Trelawney suddenly raised her arm, beads and trinkets jingling loudly. Her fingers trembled, as if feeling for the pulse of the air.

“I sense a twisted force within this room.” The words burst out of her like they had a will of their own. Her voice quivered. Large, unblinking eyes scanned the attic and the students crammed inside it. Hobbling, Trelawney went to a her shelf scattered with baubles of all sorts, and picked up a small ornate mirror. Trelawney held up the mirror at the herd of students with as much force as condemning a vampire with a cross.

Harry looked at his own distorted features in the bronze mirror curiously. Everyone’s reflections looked melted in the dim crimson light of the attic.

“Something sits among us.” Trelawney searched the room frantically “It lives with you. It eats with you. But it is not one of you.” She started pacing around the room with the mirror held high above her head. Most students were used to her theatrics by now, but this was taking it to a whole new level. As her pace gradually slowed to an excruciating speed, the already stuffy air seemed to grow solid around them. More students sat stiffly on the edge of their cushions, afraid to move. They waited with bated breath. Neville wrung his robe so hard he might poke holes into it. 

Trelawney edged closer and closer to Harry, until her shawl was draping over his nose. Harry looked into that ridiculous pair of glasses and saw her pupils dilate in fear.

“He is the Other in the room!” Trelawney said in a tense whisper, startling those around them. “The doppelgänger, the ghost in the mirror, the one that doesn’t belong.”

Harry rubbed his nose sheepishly. Several people sighed in relief that it was Harry. After all, it wouldn’t be the Divination class they knew without Trelawney foretelling some form of misfortune or death for Harry Potter. Hermione, however, looked more irritated with every word coming out of her mouth.

In the cumulation of all the suspense, Trelawney forcefully jammed the mirror in front of Harry and cried “I cast thee out!”

“I cast thee out!”

Harry suddenly stood up, tuning all the necks in the room.

“You’re right, professor” Harry said anticlimactically. “I don’t belong here. I just realized I registered for the wrong elective.”

Harry didn’t know it was physically possible for Trelawney to look even more dazed than usual, but she seemed frozen. Whatever chaos was in her mind came to a sudden halt. Then slowly, she pulled back the mirror against Harry’s face and hugged it nervously.

“Well, of course. That is the only explanation.” She said in a soft voice “My Sight can never be wrong.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Someone in the crowd whispered.

“What are you doing?” Hermione hissed at him. Harry grabbed his bag and headed straight out of the attic before Trelawney could recover from her tranced state.

Making sure that no one followed to fetch him back to class, Harry quickly casted the usual charms on himself, and glided forward silently through the shadows. Although it was a truly ridiculous excuse to get out of class, Harry began to seriously consider dropping out of Divination. It was not only a complete waste of time because he didn’t have a drop of Seer blood. Harry didn’t like anyone sniffing around his past, present and future. He’d rather never hear another one of Fate’s self-fulfilling prophecies, as if mere words can draw him irreversibly to one path and make a mockery of free will. Certainly not after everything he’d done to rewrite history.

It was about time to put things into motion, Harry decided. He set off to the vanishing cabinet to collect the tools he needed.

The bugs he wanted were of a rare and expensive species. He was just...teasing when he gave Borgin a one day deadline to deliver.

When Harry passed by the first floor, beneath the deserted classroom where the Cabinet sat, however, he stopped in his tracks. He smelled something … peculiar in the air. Following the scent, Harry found himself standing in front of Filtch’s office. A pair of red haired twins appeared to be hard at work renovating the office floor.

“Boo.”

The Weasley twins jumped in unison. Two pairs of large, flashy goggles looked up and saw Harry.

“Oh my, Harry” Fred put a hand over his heart “You shouldn’t sneak up on someone engaged in serious lawbreaking business.”

Harry walked up for a closer look. The floorboards were all dug up, and a matrix of grenade looking bombs lined the ground below.

“What are those?” Harry asked.

The twins shared a mischievous grin.

“Since you have caught us red handed - ”

“We present to you the newest Weasley creation - ”

“The slime swamp prototype v 2 - ”

“An avard-garde combination of swamp, stinky slime, and super glue - ”

“Be careful not to step on it.”

Harry stepped back to put a safe distance between himself and the demoniac device.

“Genius.” Harry said. Fred and George suddenly leaned in. The twins scrutinized him with narrowed eyes and a fox-like grin.

“Shouldn’t you be in class right now with our baby brother?”

Harry gave them a short and sweet account of what happened in Divination, and as expected, the twins had to take off their goggles to wipe away their tears from laughing.

“I’m kind of regretting not taking the notorious Divinations class, aren’t you George?”

“Just imagine the utter chaos, Fred.”

“This reminds us, we have great news for you, Harry.” Fred winked at him.

Harry raised an eyebrow. He can’t help but feel a bit uneasy about what gospel they will bring.

“Think of it as an early Christmas present.”

George pulled out a piece of rolled up parchment out of his pocket. Harry’s eyes widened imperceptibly.

“Herein lies the secret of our business.” George continued “It’s a wrench, giving it to you.”

“But your needs are greater than ours, Harry. We can’t in good conscious let you miss out the fun in Hogsmeade.”

It took Harry a second, but he recalled that he didn’t have permission to visit Hogsmeade because the Dursleys never signed his papers.

“What does the parchment do?” Harry asked, looking lost and confused at a blank parchment.

George tapped the parchment with the tip of his wand lightly, and said “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” At once, black ink spread out like a spider’s web from where his wand pointed, and formed the intricate map of Hogwarts. Harry hung open his mouth in awe.

Now this would come in handy.

\-----

As the sun sank slowly into the horizon, most students have retired to the common room to entertain themselves. The library was largely taken over by upper years studying for their OWLs and NEWTs.

On his way out of the library, a tall brunette boy yelped and lost grip of the disorderly stack of books in his hands.

“Oh, sorry” The boy that bumped into him flustered. He immediately noticed the signature lightening bolt scar blazoned across the boy’s forehead.

“It’s alright. I’ve got it...”

But Harry already bent down to help him pick up the books. Sighing as he bent over after a long day of sitting, he took the books from the clumsy boy-who-lived and put them back in a stack. But the next second, he caught a glimpse of something that slipped out of Harry’s pocket. The gloomy look on his face was immediately replaced with rapt enthusiasm.

“Is that a map of Hogwarts?” He blurted out.

Harry quickly snatched it and stuffed it back into his pocket.

“Where did you get that? Even Hogwart’s location was a secret in the books, not to mention a complete map of a castle!”

Harry scratched his hair embarrassedly.

“I’m not supposed to have it. Can you um, keep your voice down?”

Blushing slightly, the taller boy quickly regained his composure.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to intrude.” He smiled apologetically “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thanks.” Harry breathed a sigh of relief, “I’m Harry Potter, by the way.”

Everybody knew who Harry was. Still, the taller boy reached out his hand politely “Nice to meet you, Harry. Toby Tanner, fifth year.”


	7. Harry has a change of plan

Harry waited in the empty fourth floor corridor. The statue of an unsightly hump-backed witch stood next to him, its body curved forward like a large, boiled shrimp. Behind the statue stood one of the many secret tunnels leading to Hogsmeade. Harry whipped open the Marauder’s Map for a look. Since it was Hogsmeade weekend, the castle was refreshingly empty. As expected, Harry saw a trail of footsteps tagged Toby Tanner headed in his direction. He had played the poor kid whose muggle relatives refused to sign the permission slip, and tricked Tanner to go on a secret Hogsmeade trip with him. He glanced at the surroundings areas. There was nobody around to witness what was about to happen besides these ancient, watchful walls. Soon they would be out of the castle, and no power however might can stop what he would do to Tanner...

Green eye roamed over the map of classrooms, the Headmaster’s office, Hagrid’s cottage – magical creatures did not appear on the map at all. Maybe Harry could fix that. Suddenly, Harry spotted a name leaving a crooked trail on the edge of the map.

Sirius Black.

Harry watched the trail snake through the area around the Shrieking Shack. He let out the breath he was holding and glanced quickly at the Gryffindor boy’s dorms. The name Peter Pettigrew stayed innocently in one place.

It made sense that Sirius would scout out Hogwarts during the Hogsmeade weekend, Harry realized. He wished he had thought of this sooner. Irreversibly and outside of his control, an idea suddenly emerged in his mind. And Harry must admit it was a tantalizing idea. Harry put away the map rather grudgingly. His fingers toyed with a random piece of shining galleon as he pondered the question. The bottomless bag Borgin delivered through the Cabinet earlier waited patiently in his pocket. He must decide now before Tanner showed up.

Tanner or Pettigrew?

Harry flipped it. While the galleon still danced in the air, a voice in Harry's heart whispered the right answer. _Pettigrew_ would serve his purpose well. Who better to use than someone already presumed dead? As for Tanner, recent interactions with him had given Harry some interesting information to work with. Yes, Tanner could be put to a better use.

The coin landed silently in his hand, but Harry already made his decision. With every ounce of self control in his body, he put it back into his pocket without taking a look.

Soon, Harry heard footsteps approaching. Tanner’s slender face appeared around the corner, looking around furtively like a thief involved in some big heist. His eyes settled on the statue of the hump backed witch with unmasked enthusiasm. Then scanning the deserted corridor, a bewildered look took over his face.

“Harry?” He asked the empty space before him in a hushed voice, as if expecting Harry to be hiding in the crevices on the walls.

Harry stood quietly before him underneath the Invisibility Cloak. He watched Tanner pat and poke at the statue in annoyance. Fortunately, Tanner didn’t have a clue how to access the secret tunnel behind it, and gave up easily after a few attempts. Finally convinced he was being stood up, Tanner left the corridor gloomily.

Harry watched the prey slip away from his fingers, on to live another day. If it went according to his old plan, they could be gone from Hogwarts by now. He could have had Tanner strung up where nobody could ever find him. No doubt the traitor would cry, and ask him “Why?” Harry had given some thought about how he would answer. He would see Tanner crushed by the weight of his own sins. The words were ready to fire on the tip of his tongue, he could taste it like venom. But now there was a change of plan. Harry had to swallow it all back and it poisoned him more.

He strode back to the Gryffindor’s tower and the familiar dorm room. The room seemed more spacious than it was with everyone gone at the moment. It took no effort to spot the large rat, fast asleep on Ron’s unmade bed. Wasting no time, Harry grabbed it roughly by the tail and heard the rat wake with a loud squeak. Its round belly bobbed up and down as it struggled to wrench free. Harry flicked his wrist, and Pettigrew swirled in the air like a helicopter blade.

Harry watched it bounce up and down some more. He realized that any hatred he had for Pettigrew had long burned out, leaving behind embers of disdain. Right now, the fire in him only wanted muggles burned at its stake. Nonetheless, this ridiculous sight of Pettigrew restored some of Harry’s good humor. Having had his fun with it, Harry stunned the rat and dropped it into the bag Borgin provided. As he took out the Map to double check Sirius’s whereabouts, he noticed a pair of pale, round eyes fixated onto him. A fluffy ginger cat stood against the doorframe. Its face looked like it was dropped from a the Astronomy tower and landed on its nose. It weighed Harry with a calculating gaze like they’ve just met for the first time.

“Crookshanks.” Harry called with a hint of fondness. For some reason, he distinctly remembered the cat putting itself between him and Sirius in his Third year. He thought Sirius was the traitor then, and he almost believed that he was strong enough to cast the killing curse on him. 

“Sorry to take your lunch.” Harry patted the bag jokingly. He remembered that the cat was after Pettigrew for the entire school year before anyone had the slightest clue. Harry recalled that it made good friends with Sirius as well. “I’m going to find Sirius. Care to join?”

Harry took a step towards the door. Crookshanks shrieked at him like it saw something terrifying. Its back bent into a high curve, almost digging into the doorframe behind it. With the unique agility of cats, it slinked away in the shadows. Not knowing what to feel, Harry walked towards the door for a closer look, but it had already disappeared without a trace.

A large black dog roamed the outskirts of the forest. It was one of those gorgeous, sunny days, and he stood out like an ink stain against the green fields. Hunger rumbled inside him. A long time of starvation left him little except fur and bones, but it also made his sense of smell more acute. Its jaws snapped, the perfect bite size to crush a small rodent.

A tiny breeze of wind brushed the fur on his tail. Sirius snapped back, eyes wide and alert. He saw a tall, proud stag. Its hooves glided in the wind gentle as a feather. In rays of sunlight, its silvery antlers glistened like a tree of daggers.

Sirius’ eyes were filled to the brim with tears. The ghost from his past said, without opening its mouth, “Meet me in the Shrieking Shack.”

The message the Patronus carried was too short. Before Sirius could take a better look, it dissolved into a cloud of mist. Too many thoughts raced through his head all at once. It could be James. No. It could be a trap. But Sirius didn’t have time to develop any of them. When he moved again, the crazed glint in his eyes sharpened. Thin but strong legs pushed against the soil and carried him towards the Shack. 

Sirius saw the Whomping Willow from afar. Its branches swung as viciously as he remembered, but Sirius ran fearlessly and burrowed into the hole in the roots. The opening led him into a dark tunnel, winding on and on, taking him further away from Hogwarts. Sirius didn’t slow down until he saw the faint light at the end of the tunnel. He stopped in front of the familiar Shack and sniffed.

Underneath the layers of dust and old blood stains, Sirius recognized a human smell. Suddenly, a hand appeared out of nowhere, and then a head was floating in thin air. Hair still ruffled from just hiding under the Invisibility Cloak, the boy smiled at him. A shiver ran down Sirius’ spine, but not from shock. After all, floating heads had been a usual occurrence to him. If not for those eyes, Lily’s eyes…

“Hello.” Harry said. Many others words wanted to pour out of his mouth, but he settled on a simple greeting. Harry seemed different from when they last met. Even though Harry didn't know it, Sirius had been watching him. The boy who ran away from the Dursley's house wouldn't have this look in his eyes. The Harry before him looked at Sirius with such understanding, his gaze peeled away the skin of a dog and grime from Azkaban and saw him for who he truly was. Sirius was captured in an instant.

This moment of connection was over as quickly as it began.

Harry grabbed a hairless tail, and pulled a stunned rat out of a fancy looking bag. A deep, guttural growl reverberated between the walls. The black dog’s body stretched into a tall man, dressed in ragged robes. He snarled and bared his teeth like a beast.

“Let me have him, Harry.” Sirius said in a rough, low voice.

Harry didn’t seem surprised at his transformation at all. “We need to talk.” He said.

“We will. We have so much to talk about. But you need to let me kill him first!”

“I want answers.” Harry insisted.

“Just give me the traitor!”

“Look at me!” Harry snapped, “How did my parents die?” Sirius, taken aback by the sudden roar, looked at Harry again through curtains of matted hair. The murderous glint slowly drained from his eyes. His lips trembled.

“I killed them.” Sirius's voice shook with barely suppressed emotions “I was supposed to be the secret-keeper of their home. But I made them change it to Pettigrew. I killed James and Lily.”

Harry’s face twitched, but it quickly hardened into stone. He pointed his wand at Pettigrew and casted the reversal spells. Flesh and limbs sprouted from the rat like a cluster of rapidly multiplying bacteria. Within heartbeats, a whimpering man was sitting in its place, cowering into himself and nursing a nonexistent bruised tail.

“You heard him, Harry, he confessed,” Pettigrew said between sobs “He’s a dangerous criminal. He killed all these muggles and your parents!”

“Liar!” Sirius exploded. He charged at Pettigrew like a wild animal, but an iron chain as thick as his arm snatched his wrists and yanked his arms behind him. 

Sirius let out a frustrated growl. Turning, he saw the tip of Harry’s wand pointed at them. Across from him, the traitorous rat was restrained against the floor in thick chains as well. Any shock he felt at Harry’s fast spellwork faded rather quickly. A large grin suddenly stretched over his skeletal face, cracking the skin over chapped lips.

“Are you planning to kill us, Harry?” Sirius asked.

Pettigrew took in a sharp breath and let out a string of pleads. Without giving a response, Harry calmly reached into his bottomless bag. He took out a large glass bottle, a dozen crystal vials, and a jar of silvery white liquid. A swarm of red bugs danced in the bottle, painting it a mesmerizing shade of crimson.

“Keep talking.” Harry said.

Pettigrew sniffled. “Sirius Black was a Dark Wizard..”

“You spineless coward! James took you in. He trusted you, and you sold them out!”

“I would never! Harry, you have to trust me. If I worked for the Dark Lord, I wouldn’t live next to you for so long without ever hurting you.”

Sirius rattled the chains. Every word out of Pettigrew’s mouth seemed to feed into his palpable rage and the distortion in his features. “If he wasn’t lying, why would he hide for so many years as a rat? Let me do it now, Harry. Don’t stand in my way!”

Harry’s cool gaze landed on Pettigrew. The man sputtered “I stayed by Ron’s side as my Animagus to protect you and him!”

“Hmm?” Harry looked amused.

If Pettigrew could, he would no doubt crawl to Harry and hug his leg. But kept in unyielding chains, all he could do was plead. “I was afraid that Death Eaters like him would come after me, and you. They want to see me dead, you see. Black broke out of prison to kill me for his master.”

Sirius laughed coldly. “I should have killed you the moment I saw you in that street. Every single moment that they were gone but you lived makes me sick.”

“Why didn’t you” Harry cut in without warning “Do it sooner? Why would an innocent man let himself rot in jail?”

Sirius’ rant came to a sudden halt. His lips moved, trying to find the words. “I didn’t know where he was. Until I saw him on the Prophet by accident, and recognized him immediately.”

“You could have gone looking.” There was no accusation in Harry's tone, but Sirius felt the stab nonetheless.

“I was, mad with grieve. I was weak." 

Harry couldn't see Sirius's expression hidden behind the knotted hair. But he sensed a finality in Sirius's voice, born from cold fury and denouncement of the man he was. 

“It’s not what I would have done.” Harry said. Startled, Sirius snapped his head up and locked gaze with Harry. He saw a deadly glint in those eyes green as summer grass. It felt like looking into a mirror. Neither of them was paying attention to what Pettigrew was babbling on about anymore.

“Do what you want with us, Harry. You have the most right.” Sirius said with sudden clarity “But if you can’t do it yourself, say the word, and I’ll kill him for you.”

“No.” Harry replied without hesitation. With a tap of his wand, Sirius was released gently to the ground. Harry walked to Pettigrew, whose beady eyes looked up at him with a mixture of expectation and confusion. He grabbed a fistful of whatever hair he had left and yanked up the fat, unblemished face.

“Killing him won’t bring back my parents.”

“It’s justice.” Sirius said slowly, with every ounce of self control, like a volcano that could erupt any time.

“It’s not justice.” Harry declared “Because he will never feel my parents’ anguish, my mother’s pain as she begged Voldemort to spare her son.”

Pettigrew’s face was white as death. “Please Sirius,” He said desperately, “Padfoot. For old time’s sake. You don’t have to do this..”

“It won’t come close” Harry continued “to a decade in Azkaban, with dementors sucking on your very soul, Death Eaters for neighbors, as you punished yourself over and over again for not seeing through the traitor and rooting him out sooner.”

Sirius’ teeth were rattling with rage. He looked like a skeleton that crawled out of the grave to exact his vengeance.

“What then? Trust the Ministry to sentence him to Azkaban?” Sirius questioned. It was like suggesting putting out wildfire with a glass of water.

Harry muted Pettigrew with a wave of his wand. He carefully picked up the glass bottle and admired the beautiful ladybugs inside for a brief moment.

“A nomadic tribe of witches from the Mediterranean taught me the art of Gu.”

“…Voodoo magic” Sirius whispered.

“Muggles used to put deadly scorpions in an enclosed container without any food. To survive, the scorpions will feed on each other. Eventually, only the strongest ones are left standing, with the most potent poison.” Harry explained “By itself this pretty little ladybug is harmless. It twinkles prettily when you feed it an emotion…”

“Like a dementor.”

Harry smiled “It’s too weak to take any for itself. Only bored rich people keep some for show. But imbued with magic and kept in human flesh,” Harry tapped idly at Pettigrew’s head “It can give birth to a certain powerful bug... ”

“What do we do then?”

“First his veins and arteries need to be flushed and filled with mercury, so his flesh won’t rot in the process.”

Sirius almost gagged in revulsion. Then his lips stretched, into what could be either a snarl or a grin. Before vengeance destroyed one’s enemy, it razed one’s mind to the ground and shaped it anew.

His beautiful godson set down the jar and reached for his hand. Soft fingers gently rubbed his bony, calloused wrist, where the chains gripped him. Sirius felt a piece of hard wood in his palm. Harry had given him his wand.

Sirius felt his face go numb with a sudden rush of excitement. The Holly thrummed. It was like holding a zap of electricity in his fingers.

“Would you like to do the honors?” Harry asked, knowing the answer.

“With your blessing.” Sirius said.

Harry’s chest swelled with happiness. All the trouble he went through seemed insignificant to the gift he received in return. He could forget about Tanner for now. In his last life, Sirius was the first one he had failed and lost, so his fate shall be the first he would change. For the first time since traveling back in time, he felt he had an ally.


	8. Harry gives gifts and Sirius gets hugs

“Toby!”

Tanner turned around and saw the raven haired boy running towards him, thick winter cloak flapping wildly in the wind. Tanner hesitated. Within that brief window of hesitation, Harry had caught up with him.

“Merry Christmas.” Harry said. The tip of his nose was pink from running in the cold.

Even though Tanner was still upset about how Harry bailed on their Hogsmeade trip, his upbringing compelled him to return the pleasantry. “Technically it’s not Christmas yet. But Merry Christmas.” He said drily.

“I got a gift for you,” Harry surprised him by saying. He pulled put a rectangular shape wrapped in red and green from under his cloak. “It’s the books you wanted to get from Hogsmeade.”

The red steam train whistled long and sharp behind them. Tanner looked positively shocked. He dropped his luggage to take the stack of books in his arms.

“How did you get these?”

“Owl order. You mentioned that your mother didn’t want owls around the house, so I thought I should give them to you before you leave for Christmas break.” Harry dragged his foot over the frost covered ground “I’m sorry I stood you up on our secret trip, Toby. I didn’t want to get caught. We’d get in a hell lot of trouble if anyone recognized us in Hogsmeade…”

“It’s OK, Harry.” Toby’s demeanor softened like frost melting at the first ray of sunlight, “I just wish you’d told me beforehand.”

“We can still explore the secret passages after you come back.” Harry promised.

Toby nodded. “Are you staying at Hogwarts for Christmas?”

“It’d rather not see my relatives at all, and the feeling’s mutual. ” A cold look crossed Harry’s face. He had told Tanner about his neglectful relatives. Tanner lapped it all up and opened up about his own seriously troubled family.

“I wish I could do that.” Toby said wistfully.

“So stay.” Harry said “You don’t have to go. Stay at Hogwarts with me.”

“I can’t, Harry. They’re my family, no matter what.” Toby smiled sadly, “And it’s not as bad as it used to be. Like I told you, Father invited me to the New Year’s Eve gala at his manor. I was half expecting him to rescind the invitation, but I guess it’s really happening this year.”

Harry’s gave him a large grin “I’m happy for you, Toby.”

Toby stood up a little straighter. “A lot of important people will be there. Sure they’re all muggles, but it beats crossing the year with my mother and the mute maid.”

Harry’s finger moved imperceptibly under the cloak, like a puppeteer pulling a string delicately. Toby’s eyes suddenly glazed over and looked stupidly at nothing in particular. A heartbeat later, Toby blinked furiously to clear the cloud in his head. He must have zoned out for a second there. Maybe he shouldn’t make a habit of staying up so late reading.

“Of course I’d love to go!” Harry’s excited voice penetrated the cloud in his head. “I’ve never been to a gala before.”

Toby looked shocked. “Did I just invite you?” The words almost blurted out of his mouth. But Toby reigned in himself because that would have been a horribly rude thing to say.

“My, my father’s not a very pleasant man. I must warn you.” Toby said hastily “He will hound you with questions about the magic, and then judge everything you say harshly. I don’t even know why he wanted me there.”

“That’s too bad. I don’t want him to start asking me about You-Know-Who and the war. You know I’ve had enough of the infamy as it is.”

The entire expression on Toby’s face changed at the mention of Harry’s unwelcome infamy. An idea flashed across his mind and illuminated his eyes with excitement “How could I forget this - My father would love to have the Boy who Lived over his party.” He spoke rapidly, “It makes perfect sense to have you over. He’ll definitely want to hear from you, Harry. Now that I think of it, he returned every letter whenever I mentioned you.”

“Okay.” Harry said. He hid his irritation at how _easy_ Tanner was to manipulate. He could literally read the thoughts displayed on the boy’s face. Harry opened his mouth to add something flattering. All of a sudden, his instincts, honed by years of running, felt the prickling of spying eyes on his back. The boy with an old soul turned around swiftly, eyes scanning the perimeter for any signs of a stakeout or an ambush. The platform was bustling was students returning home to spend Christmas with their families. Behind the low stone walls surrounding the platform, he caught a glimpse of bushy hair before it ducked and disappeared from his view. 

“Is something wrong?” Tanner asked, he followed Harry’s line of sight but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

“It’s nothing.”

“Well, I’ll look forward to meeting you over the break.” Toby patted him confidently on the shoulder “I should board the train now. I’ll have my father send over a proper invitation later.”

“Can’t wait.” Harry wrapped up his conversation with Tanner in a haste. He got the invitation to his manor already, so there was nothing to be gained from trading more kind words. Harry watched Tanner board the train, lugging the stack of books clumsily over his suitcase. How could a fool like that set off the chain of events that destroyed their world and everything he held dear? It never settled right with Harry, especially when he was forced to bow to him in that puppet Ministry.

Tanner and Pettigrew were men with no worth by themselves, Harry mused. He had wondered what drove the young wizard to religiously compile information on magic and place it at the feet of the muggles. Harry found the answer to that question now. Tanner was nothing more than a pawn in a bigger game. Now Harry looked up from the chessboard and saw his real adversary, Tanner’s father along with his circle of powerful friends. He looked forward to their meeting on New Year’s Eve. If Mr.Tanner senior was expecting a young boy to manipulate and squeeze more information out of, he was in for a big surprise.

Daylight was drawing to an end as he left the station. Harry returned to Gryffindor’s common room, where he knew Ron would be waiting. All of Hogwarts had gone home for Christmas break with the exception of a few staying over. Harry found Ron alone by a fire, a mess of books and scrolls open before him.

“Since when did you do research?” Harry asked incredulously “Did Hermione curse you?”

Ron gave Harry a look that spelled trouble. “I’ve been looking through all these court cases for a way to save Buckbeak all day long, my eyes’re about to fall out of my face. Everywhere I looked, all these magical creatures that hurt people got sentenced to death.” He gestured wildly at the mess before him “You were supposed to be helping me find something useful! Where have you been all day?”

“I’m as upset about Buckbeak as you are. I just needed to clear my head a bit.” Harry lied smoothly. He sat down on the thick carpet, picked up a document and pretended to read.

“Have you seen Hermione?” Harry asked casually.

“Probably spying on you. Probably listening on us through the portrait hole right now.” Ron grumbled.

Harry raised an eyebrow “Why would she be spying on me?”

“She came at me with this wild theory that you’re acting weird lately, mate.” Ron shrugged.

“And what did you say?”

“I told her that she’s the one acting weird. And her conspiracy theory’s just a ploy to get us talking to her again. She ran away swearing she’ll find out what you’re up to.”

Harry sighed “I’m _not_ not talking to her.”

Ron slapped the parchment on the desk incredulously “So you’re taking her side? After her crazy cat murdered Scabbers?”

“I’m not taking anyone’s side, Ron.” Harry fought the strong urge to pinch the bridge of his nose “You don’t know for sure that Crookshanks ate Scabbers, maybe it just ran off on its own.”

“Scabbers’ been with our family for almost twelve years! He wouldn’t run off all of a sudden. That stupid cat’s been trying to eat him since day one, and Hermione kept defending it…”

Harry let Ron’s rant fade into the background. He buried his face into the pile of mind numbingly boring court cases, and made a mental note to fix this ‘lover’s quarrel’ between them, fast. He had no intention of getting caught in the cross-fire.

By the time he got through a dozen archaic and convoluted codes of law, Harry’s head was throbbing. A glance told him that Ron was frowning miserably at a piece of parchment paper. Without drawing unwanted attention, Harry took out a small notepad the size of his palm. The plain brown cover seemed so boring, few would pay another second’s attention to its presence. Flipping to the first blank page, Harry charmed his quill to produce ink and wrote: “Hey. How’s house hunting?”

A moment later, the pages warmed beneath his fingers. Wild, large letters traced themselves in the blank space beneath his question.

“Looking! Might take a while.” A pause, then “The hotel’s good compared to my old place. Didn’t have room service in Azkaban.”

Harry smiled. But he didn’t like the idea of Sirius holed up in a random muggle hotel, hiding from Aurors like some common criminal. Regardless of how much Sirius disliked Grimmauld Place, it should be his to claim. He gave it a little thought and wrote, “I kind of regret killing Pettigrew if only cause you won’t get to clear your name.” It was a very small twinge of regret, however, because a war was on the horizon. The Ministry would crack like an egg under the pressure, and their wanted list would matter little more than wastepaper.

“Don’t. I don’t care what the Ministry thinks. What We did” -the emphasis on “We” almost stabbed through the paper – “It felt right.”

Harry couldn’t help the tug at his lips. Ron was busy battling his drooping eyelids and failed to notice. In a less frequented corner of his mind, Harry feared that Sirius might develop second thoughts. After the anger and thrill faded away, would he be left alone in fear of what he had done, and what that meant about who he was? Harry knew how the feeling, a long time ago. But his godfather’s words soothed him, and he shook the doubt out of his head.

“It felt glorious.” Harry wrote “Fuck the Ministry.”

“That’s my boy.”

The rest of the night passed in relative peace and calm. Harry suggested they retire to bed early. Ron seemed upset his research yielded no fruit. “At this rate Hermione will come up with the way to save Buckbeak. Just you wait, she’s gonna strut around with her nose in the air.” Harry reminded himself that his best friend was still a preteen boy and resisted the urge to hex him.

Since all the other boys in their dorm had gone home, Harry didn’t set up the usual protective spells around his poster bed. Instead, he went to sleep hoping little Ron’s bad mood won’t ruin their Yule holiday tomorrow. Especially since it’ll probably the last peaceful Yule they spend together.

The next morning, Harry jolted awake as a pillow landed in his face. In the blink of an eye, he grabbed his wand under the pillow and reached for his gun…and found nothing except cotton pajamas.

“Oy, wake up!” Ron yelled at him while jumping off his bed “Presents!”

Small heaps of presents had appeared near their bedside overnight. There was a strange fuzzy warmth in the air. Maybe that was the magic of holiday spirit. Rubbing his face, Harry got up and played along.

“Another sweater from Mom…”Ron was already tearing through the wrappings “…maroon again, see if you’ve got one.”

Harry did. He got a scarlet sweater with a golden lion embroidered on the front. It was sure to make anyone the center of attention and moving target practice. He also received a variety of pies and sweets from the Weasley matriarch. Harry watched as Ron commented on his presents from a large, extended family. Then the boys cleaned themselves up, played games instead of doing more research on Buckbeak. When they came down to the Great Hall, Harry felt like they he eat an entire turkey.

Christmas decorations had sprung up all around the castle overnight. The portraits were lined with mistletoes and a myriad of lights. The suits of armor dangled with crystal shapes and porcelain figures, some of which enchanted to dance in the air. Right before they entered the Great Hall, ready for a feast, Hermione happened to emerge from the other end of the corridor. Despite it being Christmas morning, she was holding a thick tome on Wizengamot practices. Her steps faltered the moment she saw them. Ron purposefully looked away. Hesitantly, Hermione resumed walking toward the Great Hall, though Harry was sure at that point, neither of them would ever speak to each other even if they sat on the same table.

“Hey Mione.” Harry said in a sing song voice.

“Hey.” Hermione said, still not looking at Ron.

Harry gripped Ron by the arm, and ignoring his protests, closed the distance between them and Hermione.

“This” Harry declared “is an intervention.”

“You can’t be serious.” Ron said petulantly “She said you’re being weird and asked me to help her stalk you, but I told her to go away. I took your side. Why can’t you take mine?”

“That’s not what I meant! That’s not the word I used, Harry—"

“I saw you follow me at the station yesterday, Hermione.” Harry cut in. Instantly, a guilty look crossed the witch’s face. “And you’re right I’ve been acting weird. I haven’t been around a lot like I used to be. I know I should have gone to Hagrid’s and researched Buckbeak’s case with you.”

His friends were silent for now, taking a moment’s break to give Harry their attention.

“The thing is, I hate you fighting. I don’t want to take sides, and I don’t know how to be around when you keep this up.”

“Her cat. Ate. Scabbers!”

“Hermione’s right beside you in Hogsmeade the day Scabbers disappeared. If anything, it was my fault. I should have kept a closer eye on it in the dorms.”

“Don’t say that” Ron scrunched his face “It’s not that complicated.”

“I just want to spend Yule with the both of you.” Harry said, taking out a fancy looking pouch from his robe “And I want you to have these.” With that said, Harry plunged his hand into the pouch’s tiny opening and probed around.

“Space extension charm.” Hermione whispered.

When Harry took out his hand, something gold and metal sparkled in his fingers. The pouch’s opening grew larger as he pulled, and spat out a gilded cage. A spotted owl perched inside the cage hooted happily at them.

“Rats have an average lifespan of three years, Ron.” Harry said “Scabber’s had a long and happy life with you. But it’s maybe time to let go.”

“This is for me?” Ron stuttered, eyes glued to the shiny cage “I can’t take this—”

Harry rolled his eyes and pushed the owl into the boy’s arms “Take it. It’s And tell Mrs. Weasley I love the sweater and the sweets.”

While Ron admired his new winged companion, Hermione looked happy yet thoughtful. Harry handed her the pouch, courtesy of Borgin. Hermione slid her arm into the opening and felt around, fascinated at how large it was on the inside. Then her hands brushed against leather bound spines.

“Of course I had to get you books.”

Harry took the excruciatingly boring Wizengamot books from Hermione, and freed her hands for exploring the new collection. She pulled out a few for a closer look. They read “Unmapped Terrain of Time”, “The Scientist and the Alchemist”, and “The Great Wizarding War, a translation by Codegan”.

“Thank you, Harry.” The young witch gushed “I’ve never seen these titles before! How did you manage to get them? I love it. But now I feel so bad I didn’t prepare any presents for you.”

“You can make it up by helping me with essays.” Harry suggested unabashed.

Hermione gave him a McGonagall-like look. Ron laughed. His eyes wandered to Hermione like they had a life of their own, and his ears turned to the color of tomatoes. They looked at each other for a moment.

“I’m sorry you lost Scabbers, Ron.” Hermione took the first step. The redness in Ron’s ears spread to his cheeks.

“Can I let Crookshanks out of my room?”

“Yeah” Ron said a bit reluctantly “Just don’t let me see it around. By the way, I still hate—”

“Let’s go eat!” Harry cut in, wrapping his arms around both of them and pressing a big kiss to Ron’s cheek. The pink cloud on the ginger’s cheeks turned a shade of deep red, like the color of his hair as he stuttered a protest. Hermione visibly stiffened, but luckily she was spared the same fate as Harry ushered them into the Great Hall with a bounce in his steps.

The Great Hall was decorated with as many as twelve splendid Christmas trees. The House tables were pushed against the walls save for a table set for thirteen in the middle. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, Flitwick and unfortunately, Filtch and Trelawney sat around the table, along with two nervous first years and a sullen faced Slytherin.

“Merry Christmas!” Dumbledore said as they entered the room, Ron’s face still red and giving off steam in waves. “As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the House tables…Sit down, sit down!”

“Happy Yule!” Harry said. As the trio pulled out the chairs to sit down, Trelawney tore a hole in the wholesome holiday mood with a sharp intake of breath.

Here we go. Harry thought darkly.

“Caution, children. If you join the table we shall be thirteen!” Trelawney said in a shaky voice “Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!”

“We'll risk it, Sibyll,” McGonagall said impatiently. Then she turned to the trio “Make sure you give this turkey a try before it gets cold.”

McGonagall’s dismissal forced Trelawyney to drop the topic, but her enlarged eyes kept wandering the table through the glasses, as if searching for a sign of their demise. Ron and Hermione didn’t seem at all affected by another of her theatrics. Harry dug into the turkey. The spices were on point.

“Where is dear Professor Lupin?” Trelawney asked.

“I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again.” Dumbledore said “Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day.”

“But surely you already knew that, Sibyll?” questioned McGonagall, her eyebrows raised.

Through the colorful stained glass decorating the front wall, the sun still hung lazily in the sky. Nonetheless Harry thought of Teddy, how the boy would hide under the bed, inside the closet, or even curled himself into the laundry basket once during the full moon. Harry and Ginny would look everywhere for him. After they found him, they'd watch him curl into a soft ball of fur in their arms as they rocked him to sleep. That was when they still had a steady supply of potions, at least. That was before Ginny screamed at him to join the revolution with her, while he chose to bend over for a Ministry that hunted his friends.

After he torched the camp to the ground, Teddy passed away on the third full moon.

Harry took a deep breath to calm himself, and to his surprise it worked. He was feeling happy for once, and didn’t want to ruin the day.

“I doubt,” When Harry came back to himself he heard Dumbledore say, in a cheerful but slightly raised voice, “that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?”

“Yes, Headmaster,” said Snape. And the subject was dropped, putting an end to the duel of words between McGonagall and Trelawyney.

“Good,” said Dumbledore. “Then he should be up and about in no time…Very handsome owl you have here, Mr Weasley. Maybe you should feed him some of the chipolatas while he’s here. They’re truly excellent.”

Ron blushed again, while the owl hooted eagerly.

Harry rarely had the chance to see all of the professors together and up close. Snape was cutting a steak and conversing civilly with McGonagall. Harry hoped that the topic of his missing essays and detentions would never come up. Gods forbid the two professors might form an alliance against him. Juxtaposed against Snape in a black tailcoat from neck to toe, Dumbledore looked more flamboyant than the twelve Christmas trees put together. In his proximity, Harry felt a constant tickling in his instincts. The headmaster’s magic was akin to a sleeping dragon.

When Harry reached for his second treacle tart, he felt a warmth against his thigh. With everything going on, he hadn’t had a chance to talk to Sirius today. Could he be in trouble? Harry knew it was probably a “Merry Christmas” message, but he couldn’t take that chance. Taking the small notepad out of his pocket, Harry flipped through it as if he was innocently checking a calendar.

“Meet me at our place.” The letters tempted him.

“I can’t eat one more bite” Ron said to him “Ready to go?”

“Yea. Catch you later. ” Harry shot up from the table, ignoring the loud shriek from Trelawney, and left the Great Hall. Showering himself in the usual anti-detection spells, Harry headed for the Whomping Willow in a jog. He dodged the tree’s furious attacks, with the aid from an Impediment jinx where a branch almost whipped him, and hopped into the tree hole leading to the Shrieking Shack.

Sirius was already waiting for him at the end of the tunnel. If Harry didn’t know him from their past life, he would have trouble recognizing the man. The matted hair was trimmed down and tied back casually, revealing undeniably handsome Black features. His skeletal cheeks from years of malnourishment fleshed out slightly to form the contour of high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. He looked nothing like the animal that crawled out of Azkaban, except the lingering feral glint in his eyes. And – Harry couldn’t miss it for the world – in his hands was a long, rectangular box the size of a broomstick.

“Sirius!” Harry ran to him like a happy pup.

“Merry Christmas, Harry!” Sirius looked like he wanted to give Harry a hug, but dropped his arms awkwardly. After all, to him they were only meeting for the second time. During most of their first meeting, they were disassembling and then reassembling a corpse. Instead, Sirius urged “Open this.”

Harry ripped open the ribbon, and as he expected, his old friend lied in a bed of red wrapping paper. It was the same trusted broom whose speed saved Harry from an early grave many times. Harry ran his fingers through the firebolt, meticulously oiled and kept in prime condition down to the last twig.

“A firebolt!” Harry exclaimed “How did you even get this?”

Sirius smiled smugly “It’s just a start to make up for many years of Christmases. Not bad, huh?”

“Are you serious? It’s the best.”

“Harry, I know I haven’t got a place yet. And you’ve got your relatives - but I’ve been meaning to ask you. Once I do get a place would you come to” Sirius fidgeted “visit?”

“Of course! I want to move in with you.” Harry threw himself at Sirius and hugged him. He was so thin underneath the robes Harry didn’t have any trouble circling his arms around him. Realizing what his godson just promised, Sirius returned the hug and buried his face into the mess of black hair. 

In the corner behind the pair, Pettigrew formed a backdrop for their loving embrace. The well-preserved flesh was covered in swarms of red fungi, blooming like flowers made of meat. Its skin was pale to the point of transparent, and its veins made up silvery-purple webs. Its head was especially transparent like a jellyfish. Behind an expression of frozen horror, delicate red bugs gnawed at the brain matter and at each other.

“It’s growing well.” Harry observed as if he was commenting on a pot of daisies. By the looks of it, he could have the first bug ready in the matter of days, which was very encouraging considering it was his first.

In his last life, a tribe of nomadic witches called the Blessed Sisters gave Hermione their heirloom recipe for this ritual. Legend had it that they each carried dozens of bugs and snakes and other vermin inside their bodies. Before then, Harry always thought the gruesome tribe had died out in the medieval ages. They called this particular bug the Whisperer. It could plant ideas into a person’s mind, until they believe it with all their heart, body and soul. Harry’s thoughts drifted to the night he saw Hermione for the last time. If they had successfully planted the bugs into the muggle warlords’ heads, everything would have been different. Maybe they were snatched before they could reach their targets. Maybe their targets were made and secretly executed. Maybe the bug would never have worked, and the Sisters set up a trap along with that squib…Either way, Harry would find out when he has the bug.

“You never asked me what the ritual will accomplish.” Harry said to an unusually quiet Sirius.

Harry didn’t know what triggered it. Sirius seemed to have grown sober all of a sudden. “I know it’s very dangerous, Harry. I’ve seen many gone mad over magic half as Dark.”

“Dark? Yes. Delightful? Also true.”

Without giving Sirius more time to dwell, Harry added “I have something of a present for you too! Wait here, I’ll grab the Cloak and something else and be right back.” With that said, Harry made a run for the exit, broom grasped firmly in his hands.

“Wait! we can’t let anyone see that broom yet. I’d mail it anonymously later.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” Harry called back “Just wait here for a minute!”

* * *

Harry tapped urgently on the closed double door.

“Professor Lupin! Please open the door. I need to talk to you.”

For a minute, no sound came out of Lupin’s room. When Lupin answered, his voice was two degrees lower than normal and muffled by the distance between them. “It’s not a good time Harry. You should go to Professor McGonagall. She’s your Head of House.”

“We found Pettigrew! He’s been posing as Ron’s pet rat for all this time.”

Harry heard the loud clicks of locks being opened, then the door gave away to reveal Lupin’s pale face.

“Look!” Harry showed him an outdated Prophet he found at the library’s archive. As Lupin reached out to take the paper, Harry took the opportunity to swing the door wide open and pushed inside. The room was orderly and dark. There weren’t many personal belongings to speak of, and all the curtains were tightly shut. The desk was cleared except for an empty potions bottle. A shabby grey coat hung over what Harry assumed was a mirror.

“The missing toe…” Lupin muttered incredulously “It’s him. Why did he…” His gaze left the paper and landed on Harry. “How did you find out about this?”

Harry was impressed how well Lupin kept his expression under control, but the strain in his voice betrayed the turmoil inside. Before Harry could whip up a story and have a little harmless fun, something slapped him on the shin. Once. Then twice. Looking down, Harry laughed at the fluffy black tail wagging in midair. Then the large dog shrugged off the Invisibility Cloak, leaving it a pool on the floor, and barked excitedly.

Lupin froze, but only for a second, before he quickly grasped what was going on. “He wouldn’t have hidden. Unless…you’ve switched?”

Sirius barked again.

“Keep it down.” Harry chided. If someone followed the sound here and interrupted their little reunion, he would have to Obliviate them. Lost for words, Lupin walked up and embraced Sirius like a brother. For once, being the most careful and collected person in the room, Harry headed over to close the door.

“Wait!” The click of the door shutting yanked Lupin from the moment they were having. He rushed to stop Harry. But his body went rigid and he shook visibly. “Leave now, Harry. It’s not safe!”

Harry saw grey hair sprouting over Lupin’s hand. The professor tried to hide it behind his back, but his back lengthened and hunched. Harry watched the transformation calmly. With a pained snarl and the sound of fabric tearing, the slim young man stretched into a giant beast with razor sharp teeth and shreds of shirt hanging over its broad chest.

“Magnificent.” Harry said. Tail whipping around left to right, Sirius circled the werewolf excitedly then snuggled up against it.

Seeing the two balls of fur keeping each other company, Harry didn’t feel like third-wheeling the moment.

“Happy Yule.” Harry left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

When New Year’s Eve rolled around, Pettigrew’s body moved. More accurately, one of the fungi overgrowth – so integrated with the flesh now there was no telling them apart – fully bloomed. The petals opened like an artistically presented dish of sashimi. Inside the ring of petals was born a tiny red bug with a golden glow.

Tanner’s owl also came by and dropped off an invitation letter the night before. Black blue ink etched the address and time onto the heavy paper. If Harry was in need of chauffeur service, it wrote, a helicopter could be provided from Hogsmeade to the gala. Harry replied with profuse thanks.

Everything seemed to have come together. Harry was in such excellent mood, he replied to Borgin’s increasingly desperate letters, pleading for a way to break the “curse” on him. Without Harry's help, the man had been prolonging his life on expensive elixirs. Harry decided it was convenient to drop by Borgin’s shop before heading out to Tanner’s manor.

Roughly half an hour before the party got started, Harry walked out of the Vanishing Cabinet to an exceptionally ugly Borgin. Whatever hair he had left had fallen off, and his skin was peeling off like old wallpaper. Cutting right to the chase, Harry muttered a little-known spell. A green light shot out of his wand. Borgin flinched, but the light enveloped him in a soft glow. Then he shrank into a little baby. His stubby legs gave out and he landed on his butt over the pool of clothes.

Harry laughed. He would’ve taken a picture if he could. With another flick of his wand, Borgin grew in size and age until he was his wrinkly old self again. Even the clothes fit onto him perfectly, but his skin no longer looked like he had taken a bath in boiling water.

Borgin felt for his face. “Thank you, thank you, Lord Potter.”

Harry snickered. “Consider it a late Yule present.” Even Borgin could do with a little holiday, after all.

“How gracious of you.” Borgin said, having regained his way of flattering along with his health. He took small ornate box from the worktable and bore it with both hands. “I present you with a modest gift.”

Intrigued, Harry took the box and opened it. A dark, spotted wand lied inside. It was the same length as his Holly, but there was no telling the wood.

“Master Montegue crafted this wand. 11 inches long, made of snakewood and Chimaera heartstring. Excellent for the Dark Arts. I understand it’s no phoenix feather, but Ministry’s trace on every Ollivander’s wand could be a nuisance.”

Harry glanced up cooly at Borgin, who shriveled even though there was no real rage behind that look. Harry knew Borgin studied his old wand as soon as he dropped dead before him. That was how he knew of the phoenix feather core. But Harry had been in a good mood recently and let it slide.

“It might be useful.” Harry said. He was turning to leave, when a familiar warmth radiated against his thigh. Shifting the box to the other hand, Harry fished out the notepad, wondering what prompted Sirius's sudden message after they had just exchanged New Year good cheers this morning. Maybe Sirius had finally settled on a place to call home.

Harry's eyes landed on the page before him. It wrote, in wild spiky letters: “Dumbledore knows. Must have found Pettigrew. I told Remus, I'm sorry."


	9. Harry regrets a conversation

Borgin felt the remnants of a festive mood fade over his young master’s face, where a hardened coldness settled, and that obsessive glint returned in those green eyes. Quietly lowering his gaze, Borgin remained dutifully in a bowed position, keeping his questions to himself.

“Do you have a time turner?” Harry asked suddenly.

“Not at the moment, but I may acquire one…”

Harry waved dismissively, and stepped back into the Cabinet without another word.

Harry knew a couple of things for certain.

Firstly, his plans for Tanner and his family will not be postponed for a second time. Not when he can almost hear the traitor’s lovely screams ringing in his ear.

In the back of his mind, an old image sprung from the tangled mess of corpses, from countless memories of men and women dying until their faces blended into each other. Harry saw the gaping mouth of the veil swallow Sirius whole. Harry detested the feeling of weakness and guilt. More than anything else, he will not let Sirius be taken from him again.

The night air was chilly with a pleasant scent of honeysuckles and other flowers he couldn’t put a name to. Harry stepped out of Gryffindor common room, sliding something golden and shiny into his pocket. He didn’t have to guess at Sirius’s whereabouts. Flipping open the Marauder’s Map, which he had formed the habit of taking everywhere, Harry found three names huddled closely together in the Shrieking Shack.

“Sirius Black, Albus Dumbledore, Remus Lupin.”

It could have been worse, Harry mused. It seemed that Sirius was able to deliver the message to him as soon as trouble broke out. If the Ministry were already involved, the situation would unfortunately be much trickier. Knowing Dumbledore, there was a good chance the Ministry was not yet informed of the incident. Their headmaster must want to get to the bottom of how a supposedly dead Pettigrew turned into voodoo ritual sacrifice without the fools from the Ministry yapping at him. 

Harry imagined Dumbledore’s utter shock at the truth, laid bare to him in the form of Pettigrew’s mutilated corpse. Despite everything, the image he conjured put a giddiness in his steps he hastened towards the Shack.

Harry prowled through the dark tunnel, his footsteps smooth over the frosty ground and his magic turned to radio silence. Over the light chirping of the Shack’s insect inhabitants, he could hear distinctly Dumbledore’s voice.

“The corpse has already produced one vile offspring,” The voice questioned firmly, any hints of anger or pain overshadowed by its urgency “What have you done with it?”

The question bounced back off a wall of utter silence. Harry knew Sirius didn’t have the answer. His godfather had no clue where he had taken the bug, or what he intended to use it for.

“Sirius,” Lupin’s voice urged “It’s not too late to stop whatever it is you want to do. Let us help you. You’ll be guaranteed a fair trial.”

A maniacal laugh echoed throughout the tunnel.

“A fair trial? A fair trial…That’s what I gave Pettigrew. And I enjoyed every, second, of it - ”

A jet of scorching light shot pierced the dimly lit room and landed onto the gruesome corpse in the corner. At first contact with the Pettigrew's body, dark flames burst into a roaring fire that filled the air instantly with the smell of searing flesh.

Lupin, who had already drew his wand in defense, felt a chill run down his spine at the sight of the unnatural flames.

“It’s Fiendfyre!”

From the shadowed doorway, the tip of a Holly wand slowly emerged, followed by Harry with a disquietingly warm smile.

Sirius was kneeling on the floor with his hands tied behind his back. At Harry’s sudden appearance, Sirius went pale with wide eyes. Both Lupin and Sirius looked disheveled with cuts all over their bodies like they just got out of a fight, but nothing truly drew blood. The Fiendfyre lapped up Pettigrew’s body greedily. Illuminated by the dancing flames, Dumbledore’s face sank as if his worst nightmare for a long time had come true.

Before the fire spilled over and engulfed the very floor they were standing on, Harry twirled his wand. Following a sharp suction sound, the demonic flames sizzled out, leaving embers over nothing but a small heap of charred carbon, impossible to recognize as anyone.

“Harry..” Lupin began, dumbfounded.

“Harry Potter!” Sirius said slowly, as if unfamiliar with the name. Harry looked into those dark eyes, and saw a desperate, frantic plea for him to back down and leave. “Have you tracked me down to kill me? Too bad the real traitor is already dead. I killed him myself.”

“It’s ok Sirius.” Harry said “Congratulations on finding my little experiment, Headmaster. But I can’t let these little bugs fall into any hands other than mine own. Surely you understand that?”

Dumbledore was gloom with understanding. If Harry had surprised them with a regular Incendio instead of Fiendfyre, he would be able to put out the flames in time to preserve the evidence. Now, they would be trialing Sirius for the murder of a long dead man without an actual body. Though any crimes of Sirius Black were the least thing on everyone’s mind right now.

Lupin, on the other hand, appeared to be in great internal turmoil over whether to lower his wand trained on Harry. He wanted to rationalize that Harry was manipulated and led astray by Sirius’s desire for vengeance, but the feat with Fiendfyre everyone had just witnessed threatened to overthrow everything he thought he knew.

“Professor Lupin.” Harry turned his attention to the Cypress wand in his face and greeted it with a wide smile “Were you not happy with the Christmas reunion I gave you? Is this how you have decided to return the favor?”

Lupin took in a deep breath, and answered with admirable calmness considering the circumstances. “I didn’t imagine it would end in this way, Harry. But I can’t let you head down this path any further, not after what I saw. I wish you would’ve come to me sooner…”

“Ha.” Harry stepped up, almost snuggling up against Lupin’s wand with pretend lovingness “I see now why you’re upset we took care of that traitor…Are you feeling left out that Sirius and I didn’t invite you to the party?”

Harry sensed the agitated magic coursing through the wand. He anticipated the spell that could shoot out of its end any second.

“Professor Lupin, if you would please escort Sirius Black back to my office.” Dumbledore’s voice cut through the palpable tension in the room “Make sure he is seen by no one.”

Relieved, Lupin let down his wand hand and nodded stiffly. Giving Harry a wide berth, he walked over to help Sirius up from the floor.

“You should’ve stayed away.” Sirius whispered grudgingly “It’s a mistake.” He shuddered to think of Harry locked inside the same cell that tormented him for a decade. He wouldn’t be able to live with that, not even in the refuge of madness or his Animagus form.

“I don’t need you to cover for me.” Harry said matter-of-factly, “Trust me. You are never going back to Azkaban.” It was not only a promise to Sirius, but also a blatant threat meant for Dumbledore’s ears. Not even the Ministry of Magic would have the authority to make such a declaration, but he said it with a conviction and overbearing confidence that left no room for doubt. For Harry, if he couldn’t even protect his own godfather in this life, he’d be better off giving up his plans for the entire Wizarding World right now and crawl back into the World Serpent’s stomach.

For Dumbledore, all this mastery over dark magic and egomaniac behavior reminded him of someone familiar. As Lupin and Sirius, fazed by the Potter boy’s arrogance, cleared the room, ancient blue eyes drifted to the scar over the boy’s head.

“To answer your earlier concern, I never intended to see another vermin hatch from your loathsome little experiment,” Dumbledore said “Pettigrew’s body was to be torched after it served its purpose as evidence.”

“Of course. Why am I not surprised you know about this obscure, 'loathsome' magic." Harry mumbled, then tilted his head to the side curiously, "Are you suggesting that you won’t use its powers on anybody, ever? Not even on the Dark Lord? All you need to do is whisper your command to the little bug, and Abracadabra, Voldemort’s convinced he should stay dead for good.”

“The Dark Arts like to toy with its worshippers in the most unexpected ways. If its powers are as convenient as you say, why not use it now to make me your slave?”

“Because I had to experiment first to know if the so called Sisters were lying or not.” Harry said “Because you’re Albus fucking Dumbledore.”

Voldemort may be the childhood nightmare he vanquished, but Dumbledore remained a knot in his chest for the rest of his life. He thought he had the rest of a peaceful life to untie that knot, but then came _the_ war. Every tragedy he had to live through, every command he gave, and every difficult decision he made brought him closer to understanding the man who raised him for slaughter.

Right now the headmaster’s brows furrowed. What was an honest answer from Harry sounded to him like utter nonsense. He studied Harry coldly. It was so strikingly similar to how he once looked at Voldemort, Harry feared he might get called “Tom” the next second.

A sharp laughter escape Harry like a burning kettle whistling. “Merlin.” Harry tapped a chair to make it look good as new and plopped down on it. “Are you thinking that I’m under the influence of Voldemort? It couldn’t be further from the truth. Believe it or not I’ve been wanting to talk to you. Now seems to be as good a time as ever.” Harry smiled sardonically, “I’m in fact, the one and only Harry Potter, twenty-five years old -- more or less -- on a heroic adventure from the future to save the wizarding world from destruction.”

There wasn’t any jaw dropping shock that Harry wished to see. Neither did Dumbledore mock him in disbelief. Silently and unexcitingly, Dumbledore conjured a tall chair with pink satin cushions. Harry knew he was taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Sitting down across from Harry, in the bare and dreary room, Dumbledore seemed to go along with the story for now.

“Suppose I believe what you said is true, how will the wizarding world be ‘destroyed’ in a decade’s time?”

“Muggles. But if you ask me it’s our own stupidity. Muggles being what they are. Once our secret’s exposed it only ends in one way. ”

“Which way might that be?”

“War. Until everyone of us is domesticated or dead.”

Dumbledore’s quirk of an eyebrow showed his unimpressed displeasure at the revelation. “And has the threat of Voldemort been eliminated in your future?”

“Long gone. I went Horcrux hunting in my seventh year. I’ll actually cut you a deal. Let Sirius go free and I’ll tell you all the locations of Voldemort’s Horcruxes. All six of them that’s left not counting the diary I destroyed.”

Finally, Harry saw Dumbledore shaken, even the twinkling stars woven in his beard seemed to dim as he let out a deep sigh. “It’s the Quidditch match. Is that when you woke up to this time? The centaurs clamored that night over the falling of a star...Never did I thought I’d witness a time traveler at this age.”

Harry hummed. Dumbledore must know of Trelawney’s vision as well, but he had no interest in getting into it.

“How did you acquire the power for it? Even I cannot come close to summoning the energy required for extended time travel in my prime, and take no offense, I didn’t make you to be especially magically gifted.”

“Does it matter? I’m here now. There was no other choice. In the end, I could count the number of magicals left in Britain on two hands. But we weren’t able to get in touch for a long time. I might as well be the last one alive.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that. I must confess, I rarely considered that possibility.”

“Don’t be sorry. You died early.” Harry smiled bitterly “The war wouldn’t start for another couple of year, but already the Muggles are watching us. Lurking in the shadows, waiting for right moment to pounce.”

“And the Statue of Secrecy? From my experience, Muggle leaders never had any trouble being convinced that the existence of magic should stay a secret.”

“The Statue is a fucking joke, just like the Ministry. They told themselves that a few Obliviators will do the job when you have Muggle cameras on every corner and videos with millions of hits online. And, haha…some Muggle politician died under ‘mysterious circumstances’ and the rest of them were more than happy to blame that on us.”

Harry was glad to see any look of pity wiped from Dumbledore’s face, replaced by a solemn contemplativeness. 

“The powerful never have a shortage of reasons to wage war. In that case, they must have been covertly developing weaponry targeted specifically at magic. It would take concentrated effort on a large scale for them to detect any household protected by the Muggle Repellant Cha---”

“Not at all. All it took was a couple magic traitors to pinpoint those for them. Even Hogwarts burned down over night. When we go to war, who do you think the Muggleborns are loyal to?” Harry asked bitingly “You are a wise old man. You can guess at what’s going to happen.”

“Your mother was a Muggleborn.” Dumbledore answered coldly. His expression was neutral with a subdued distaste. “So are many of the brightest witches and wizards I had the pleasure of knowing, including your friend Ms. Gr---”

“That’s not the _damn_ point.” Harry cut in impatiently, as if lecturing a dim child. He felt as if he could still see the fresh corpses being hauled by Thestrals by the cartload in the back of his eyelid. Yet the old man stood here and questioned the nature of his reality with trivialities and platitudes. It was the same old tune the fools from the Ministry sang, blind to the threat before their eyes until the guns were literally trained on their heads.

Being rudely interrupted for the second time, Dumbledore’s lips thinned. “I presume you told me all this not just to leverage for Sirius’ freedom, you want my advice and support. In that case, it’s paramount that we first solve the problem at hand. Voldemort must be permanently defeated, starting with his Horcruxes.” 

“Well, I’d be happy to tell you where they are as soon as Sirius walks free.”

“Sirius won’t be punished for what you called your ‘little experiment’” Dumbledore’s gaze was piercing over the half-moon glasses, “Yet it confounds me, how you care so much for Sirius Black, but clearly had no qualms manipulating him to commit murder and participate in that grotesque ritual. Such dark magic has little use in saving the Wizarding World, if that is even what you intend to do.”

Harry felt a surge of anger ripping through his body, as the rush of blood grew louder and louder in his ears. 

“Sirius wanted this. I gave him what he wanted.”

“If that’s the case, on second thought, I must insist that Sirius Black be trialed as accomplice for murder. The sentence would be to receive the Dementor’s kiss.”

The wood squeaked loudly, twisting under Harry’s fingers like clay. The boy leaned forward, magic coiling around him like a snake poised for murder. Suddenly, he fell back into the chair with an abrupt burst of laughter.

“Oh…Professor. You were provoking me on purpose.”

“Indeed. It seems that I wasn’t so far from the truth after all. You may not realize yourself how much influence Voldemort has had on you.” Dumbledore rose, but his gaze never wavered, studying Harry like he were a stain on a pristine set of robe. “Your magical aura cannot lie. You had reveled in splitting a man open alive, and freely let the darkness corrupt your core. I’ve only ever sensed such uncontrollable bloodlust on Voldemort, who was mad enough to mutilate his own soul.”

At that moment Harry felt it again – the searing pain in his soul. Under those blue eyes he felt stripped down and pried open, as if exposing a hideous deformity in his body. 

“I’m here to talk about the fate of magic, but you won’t shut up about Peter fucking Pettigrew? That pathetic excuse of a man’s more useful as food for the Whisperers than he’d ever be alive.”

“I’m afraid we have little to talk about over the fate of magic. If you wished to alert the world of the Muggle threat, you could’ve gone to the Ministry or come to me a long time ago. But you will find that our solutions are not bloody enough for your taste. Instead of actively preventing a war, you are after a bloodbath. Is that correct?”

Harry laughed uncontrollably into the palm of his hand. “Funny thing…Nobody seemed to have an issue when I had to die, being Voldemort’s Horcrux and all. So what if I kill a couple of people so that the entire wizarding world can live?” Dumbledore flinched imperceptibly. Latching onto that sign of weakness like shark sensing blood, Harry pressed on, “I have died to save this place not once, but twice. You wanna know how I survived traveling back in time? I made a Horcrux off this Muggle that kidnapped and tortured hundreds of magical children. Did you know they took Ron after he got injured in battle? They wanted to test the wizard’s resistance to various types of contagious diseases on him. I counted every cut on that Muggle before he bled out but that was still too good for him.”

“Vengeance will never gratify you, Harry. You’re hurting yourself over what has not yet happened, and may never happen if we make the right choices. If you could see reason, you’d feel remorse for what you have done.” Dumbledore said, as if he actually cared for his soul.

“You’re the one who will be sorry, Headmaster. I recall you said that you ‘rarely’ considered Muggles as the reason for our ultimate destruction. But the possibility has actually crossed your mind, hasn’t it? You’re just too much of a hypocrite to face it. Some people say that Grindelwald felt remorse for the atrocities he committed at the end of his life. The guards heard him screaming at things not really there. But I wonder, is it really the ghosts of his past that haunted him, or visions of what is to come?”

For the first time tonight, Harry saw a crack in Dumbledore’s façade, and felt the full brunt force of his magic. His ears rang. His instincts compelled him to reach for his wand, but Harry resisted it. His experience lied in fighting against Muggles. He knew he’d be no match for the Headmaster in a dual, not to mention in this young boy’s body.

“Hand over the first Whisperer hatched.” Dumbledore said, voice flat and stone cold. Apparently the conversation was over. Harry knew if he refused, he’d be at the mercy of the Elder Wand in an instant.

Harry reached into his pocket, and pulled out a shiny golden watch. It was a time turner. Perhaps a part of him always knew their conversation would end this way.

“That's not possible because I used it before coming here." Harry said "You can return this time turner to Hermione if you want. She’s got classes to get to tomorrow.”

Dumbledore shut his eyes, suddenly looking shriveled and every bit his age.

Harry dropped the time turner on a table tittering on three legs, and left the room. It was already pitch black outside. Harry felt weirdly hollow. He took lingering looks at the Whomping Willow, the shrubs around him, and the grass beneath his feet. It may be the last time he got to see Hogwarts in a while. Dumbledore may have let him walk away this time, but the next time they meet it may be as enemies, with every reason to take the other’s life. 

Was he too naïve to believe Dumbledore could have seen the world through his eyes? Maybe Harry never knew him for who he really was, but who he needed him to be. Harry was not foolish enough to believe that he can snuff out Voldemort and rally the wizarding world all by himself. Harry needed Dumbledore on his side. But now he had made a formidable foe.

With surprising clarity and calmness, Harry carried himself to the third-floor corridor. He had always had an alternative under his nose. Another ally more controllable, more agreeable, tied to him irreversibly through life and death. He had willfully refused to see that, until now.

Harry paced back and forth before the tapestry three times. When the door emerged, he pushed through into a vast, unkempt room. He felt the presence of the soul piece before he saw it, the jewels glistening invitingly at him.

So what if he takes this step? Where does it rank on his list of crimes?

Harry lifted the diadem from the headset, and crowned himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the rly late update. Have you ever woken up and suddenly wanted to write haha


	10. Finally some dark lord

Harry’s half-hearted attempt at a hairstyle was completely ruined by the time the helicopter landed. When he pulled the heavy headset from his ears, untamable hair jutted in every possible direction. A few hundred kilometers from Hogwarts, a heavy storm was brewing. The pilot was white-knuckled from gripping onto the control stick to navigate in this horrid weather. Harry had insisted on keeping the door open so he could see where they were flying.

Ignoring the blades still whirling overhead, Harry jumped out onto smooth, dirt floor. They landed in a clearing in the woods, next to a lake black as ink under the starlight. There was no one in sight except a servant dressed in a dark suit, holding a lantern.

“Welcome, Mister Potter. This way please.” The servant beckoned him to follow an unpaved trail in the woods. The orange light from the lantern gave view to a broad path before them. It was the kind of path good for taking a stroll on your horses. Harry didn’t think Tanner’s flocks of guests would be happy to drag their fancy gowns over the dirt road. Apparently, Harry was quarantined from the rest of the party as a precaution.

Harry pulled out the black wand, weighing it between his fingers. The snakewood sent a gentle warmth through his palm. “Take me directly to Tanner” Harry said with a silent Imperio “The senior one.”

“Yes Mister Potter.” The servant said blankly. After a short walk through the woods, Harry saw the estate. Or should it be called a manor? Even the side door was grand by any standards. They cut through a perfectly trimmed garden glowing with lights. The trees shivered violently against the wind. Harry let the servant lead them over a bed of flowers, crushing the precious petals underneath their heels. The message from Sirius weighed heavy on his mind, and he was in no mood for prettiness.

If the guards at the door thought them strange, they were well-trained enough to hide it. They wound through corridors decorated with the finer arts and sculptures, passed a delicate indoor greenhouse adjoined with an oriental style garden, and eventually arrived at the open doors of the drawing room.

Harry could hear the ruckus of men laughing. There seemed to be a small gathering of friends before the official party kicked off.

“Say whatever you need, get your master to meet with me alone, now.” Harry commanded “Then go fetch me little Tanner.”

The servant went inside to carry out his mission, leaving Harry leaning by the door frame. A porcelain vase sat on a stand at his eye level, and Harry traced the intricate pink and indigo patterns with his finger to pass the time.

Soon, a tall man emerged at the door, smelling faintly of alcohol and cigar smoke. Mr. Tanner looked nothing like his twig of a son. He had a strong jaw, large bones, and brown eyes pinched in displeasure at being pulled out of his meeting. He swung the door shut and gave Harry a quick scan over.

“You must be Toby’s friend.”

“Yes, sir. You can call me Harry.” Harry said shyly, fidgeting a bit as any boy ought be before such a wealthy and powerful man.

 _How cute._ _A silky voice out of nowhere commented sardonically ._

“Come.” Mr. Tanner said, guiding Harry with a firm hand over his shoulder “What are you, in your third year?”

Harry followed like a cat being held by the scruff. “Yes. I’m turning fourteen this summer.”

“I told the boy specifically to wait for you in the lounge. Was he absent when you went there?”

“Yes, sir.”

Tanner senior led him into what looked like his private study. A guard stood by the door, his jacket bulging where a weapon was hoisted. The study was barren and dressed in muted neutral colors except for a few pieces of vibrant artworks. Deep wine colored drapes sealed the windows. A dozen books, too valuable to be kept in the library, lined the shelves. Beneath them stood a black safe large enough for Harry to crawl inside.

Ignoring all else, Harry strode over the drinks cabinet and poured himself a finger of whiskey. The golden liquid washed over this throat, calming his nerves for a brief moment. Harry knew it was pointless to think about Sirius now. He had dialed back the time turner for a over an hour. Rushing through things wouldn’t let him get to Sirius any faster. But still…

When Harry looked up again, Mr. Tanner was looking at him sharply with newfound intensity.

“No drinking age limit in the Wizarding World, sir.” Harry smiled sweetly over the rim of the glass.

The man huffed a light laugh and closed the distance between them. Leather soles clicked on uncarpeted wood, and stopped where Harry had to lift his chin to see his face.

“I understand you grew up with what you call ‘the muggles’?”

“Yes, with a brute of an uncle.” Harry fingered the rim of the glass absentmindedly. “They hated magic, and me.”

It wouldn’t be difficult for anyone to find out about his living arrangements through muggle means. In the last life, the Dursleys were terrorized by government agents, the media, and their own neighbors till the last day in their lives. “We don’t know where he is.” His aunt begged for the mob's mercy “We want nothing to do with his freakishness! We’re normal! We support the purge!”

Unfortunately the muggles never bought that.

“You seem anxious.” Mr. Tanner’s comment drew Harry back to the moment. “We can talk about other things while you’re here.”

“Okay.” Harry leaned further into the wall, surrendering more personal space for the man to press on, till he was practically shrouded in the man’s shadow.

“Justin just told me you can’t stay for dinner.”

Justin must be the name of the poor servant fellow. Harry nodded.

“Anything pressing? New Year plans?”

“No. But the Headmaster thinks it’s not safe for students to stay out past curfew.” Harry said quietly, casting his eyes down as if the weight of the man’s scrutiny was too much to bear.

The man grasped what’s left of the drink Harry was nursing, and set it down the trolley with a soft clink. The scent of cologne and cigars warmed Harry’s cheeks. “Can’t have you leave me stinking like whiskey. That would be…scandalous.” The last word rolled off the his lips and dissolved into a puff of hot breath. Harry stole a look into the man’s brown eyes and found them darkened with lust. “But if you stay after dinner, we can have a toast to the new year.”

At that moment, a loud knock at the door.

“I have Toby with me, sir.” Justin’s emotionless voice declared.

“Come in.” Tanner senior drew two wide steps back, and Harry was exposed to the chilly night air again.

“Father,” the fumbling fool barged into the room “I swear I waited in the lounge the whole time, as you instructed. Did Justin say I wasn’t there? Because I was there the entire time.”

“Quiet.” Mr. Tanner said irritably, and Toby shut his mouth like he had been choked by the neck.

A sharp laugh pierced the room. With his back still pressed against the wall, laughter kept bubbling out of Harry until it formed a string of hysterical noises.

“Something funny?” Tanner, the older one, asked darkly.

“Oh Merlin. Fucking hilarious.” Did Toby Tanner’s dad just try to fuck him? Harry shook his head in disbelief at what just transpired. But his humor had a tendency to come and go rather quickly. After getting a good laugh out of it, Harry pushed the ridiculous but trivial interlude aside, not at all disturbed by the fact that he practically led the man on. Peeling himself off of the wall, Harry combed a hand through the disheveled hair to collect himself.

The young Tanner glared at him, at the same time offended and embarrassed. “Whatever is going on, Harry?”

Before he could finish framing the question, Harry flicked his wand. Toby’s arms suddenly twisted backward behind his back. The older boy lost his balance and hit the floor with a thud, accompanied by a pained scream and the snap of his shoulders dislocating from the sockets. Harry flicked his wand a second time. A ward rippled over the room, sealing it as tight as a tomb.

“No way in, no way out.” Harry said to Tanner senior, daring him to try calling for help.

The man flinched as his son’s screams echoed within the room. His bulking form staggered backwards, and his back hitting the large mahogany desk behind him. But before he could wrap his hand around the gun hidden inconspicuously under the desk, a spell sliced through the air. Three of his fingers fell cleanly off his hand, and rolled onto the floor like little sausages.

“Ahhhh” Toby screamed at the sight, wriggling on the floor against the bounds “You bitch! What do you think you are doing? You’ll be expelled! The Ministry will feed you to the fucking Dementors. Do you hear me?”

Clutching his bleeding hand, Tanner leaned on the desk to catch his breath.

“My imbecile of a son” He said breathlessly “has brought a viper into my house.”

“Father, no, let me explain. He isn’t supposed to cast magic outside of school. He shouldn’t be able to do this. This shouldn’t be happening. There’s got to be a misunderstanding - ”

Harry gave his wand an impatient wave. Toby’s lips flew together and the rest of the words came out as frustrated grunts. Even Tanner senior screwed his eyes shut and rolled his head back, relieved for a moment of quietness. The stumps on his hand squirted streams of blood like tiny fountainheads, painting the canvas of his shirt red.

Harry strolled over to pour himself another drink.

“Now would be the time to make your demands.” Tanner interrupted, growing paler by the second from blood loss. Did Harry mention that wounds from dark spells don’t congeal and heal? “Or did you break a dozen magical laws just to raid my liquor cabinet?”

“I’m in here to sate a different kind of thirst. Crucio.” Harry mumbled. A jet of light hit Toby’s sprawling body squarely in the chest. Toby let out a silent scream of anguish. He began thrashing wildly against his bounds, dislocated shoulders bending into impossible angles. His fingers dug into the floor, leaving dark lines of blood and broken nails.

_The silky voice hummed agreeably._

The sight left Tanner senior’s mouth hanging open before it finally found the words. “Has my son offended you in any way?”

“For being a magic traitor and a nuisance.” Harry sipped at his drink “While you’re here, let us experiment with a little mind magic as well. Do you consider yourself an especially strong willed man?”

“Hardly” Tanner said, eyes flickering to Harry briefly “Easily tempted.”

“Ha.” Harry laughed joylessly. He extended the index finger of his right hand up, and a tiny red bug, as tiny as a pixel of light, flew out of his pocket and landed on the tip of his finger.

Harry whispered: “Your greatest purpose in life is the flourishing of magic. You will stop at nothing to make sure that wizards triumph over the muggles.”

Harry barely had to channel any magic. The Whisperer grew bright red for a fleeting second, then disintegrated into a small drizzle of lights like a lit sparkler stick. For a moment, nothing happened. It certainly was a lot more anticlimactic than Harry had imagined.

Then, Tanner senior’s upright statue seemed to shrivel before his very eyes. The proud man groped on the desk, barely supporting himself upright, and buried his face in his hands with a pained sob.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asked curiously.

“Despair.” Tanner breathed. He slowly pulled his hands from his face, already a mess strewn with a mixture tears and blood. “That I had lived all my life in vain, never knowing such power.” His eyes wandered his desk, from the antique pottery, the polished telephones, to the perfumed and starched paper. In a fit of rage, strong arms swept across the desk and swatted everything, invaluable works of art shattered on the floor with splatters of his blood. “All for what?” he howled “for what?”

Harry raised an eyebrow. It seemed that the Sisters’ infamous voodoo magic weren’t just rumors after all. The Whisperer had certainly taken root in Tanner’s head. But unlike the good old Imperius curse, the caster can’t control the subject’s exact reactions and behaviors. Maybe he should have gone the easy way and just commanded Tanner to obey him unconditionally. But where would be the fun in that?

 _Oh, Harry,_ _The silky voice chuckled, amused._

“You’ve been very bad, Mr. Tanner.” Harry drawled.

Pulling himself together from a mental meltdown, Tanner turned to Harry. All of a sudden, he crumpled to the floor. Harry was almost startled when the man’s knees hit the floor with a resounding thud. “Yes, I confess.” Tanner said desperately, grasping to Harry like he was the last straw of hope for a drowning man, “I used my own son to gain crumbs of knowledge about magic. I’ve plotted with others for ways to exploit magic… I wanted to control wizards, because I was jealous and hateful. Our greed is a curse on this world. Please help me. Tell me how I can make it right. We have put a terrible train of destruction in motion. Tell me how I can stop it!”

“Easy.” Harry said. He tilted Tanner’s face gently towards Toby, who was still sprawled on the floor. The boy had grown exhausted from his thrashings and barely held on to consciousness.

“You groomed him to be a traitor to magic. Now you have a chance to take it back.”

“Noum..” Tanner mumbled incomprehensibly, shaking his head. “He still has magic in him, no matter what. He’s still magical. He can learn to be loyal to him kind. If anyone should die, it should be me…”

Harry tightened his grip on the man’s jaw. “I need you on the inside, Tanner. Your knowledge and your connections are vital for undermining the muggle’s plans. We know they will never stop lusting after power that doesn’t belong to them. Don’t we? But little Toby is a weak link. You fostered in him a hatred for magic. You turned a child of magic against her. Now end him. Make it right again. So there may still be hope for you.”

Tanner vice like grip on Harry’s hand trembled, then loosened. Pale as a ghost, Tanner staggered to his feet. He reached again for the gun plastered under the desk, and held it in his good hand.

“No” Toby mouthed silently, tears streaming down his face.

The gun fired into Toby three times. Harry watched with a mixture of fascination and horror, pleasantly surprised at the Whisperer’s uncanny power.

_Interesting_. An observer in the shadows, the silky voice was filled with intrigue.

Harry sensed that something was out of place. But he couldn’t quite put his finger to it. Then he saw himself glide up and take Tanner’s mutilated hand. With a tap of his wand, the tips of Tanner’s fingers jumped up from the floor and screwed themselves back in place.

Why do I feel like I’ve done this before?

Suddenly, the scene before him melted away like memories in a Pensieve. Harry fell through a kaleidoscope of memories.

“Sirius won’t be punished for what you called your ‘little experiment’” Dumbledore’s voice condemned him with judgement, “Yet it confounds me, how you care so much for Sirius Black, but clearly had no qualms manipulating him to commit murder and participate in that grotesque ritual.”

The memory of Dumbledore fast forwarded before his eyes. Then he was meeting Hermione for the last time. “Their contact in the government will make an opening for us to disable the magical security system for a while.” She said, the torchlight inside the cave flickered, making shadows dancing across her face, “We get in, plant the bugs in the heads of a few muggles, and get out.”

_Where am I?_ Then Harry remembered. The message from Sirius, the time turner, the conversation with Dumbledore turned soured, and the Diadem he recklessly put onto his head…

“…Voodoo magic” In this piece of memory, Sirius whispered.

“Muggles used to put deadly scorpions in an enclosed container without any food. To survive, the scorpions will feed on each other. Eventually, only the strongest ones are left standing, with the most potent poison.” Harry explained, about to demonstrate the making of the Whisperer.

At last, Harry had found the parasite latching onto his mind. The bare outlines of a man lurked inside his memories, watching, sifting, digesting…

 _Get out!_ Harry snapped, erecting the Occlumency shields around his mind.

The next second, Harry woke up lying on his back, almost numb from coldness. His limbs felt heavy and sore as he pulled himself up from the floor of the Room of Requirements. He coughed as his movements stirred up a heavy fog of dust.

The Diadem lied innocently on the floor a few feet away.

“What are you a Dark Lord or a peeping Tom?” Harry snapped at the other Horcrux. But it lied there motionlessly, with nothing to indicate it was anything more than a discolored piece of old jewelry.

Cursing, Harry rubbed his temple to alleviate the dead weight in his head. It didn’t help much. He felt as exhausted as the time he was trapped in the North Atlantic ocean for ten days, with nothing but his wand and a piece of log.

How did he black out and let the Diadem inside his head? The damned piece of Voldemort was roaming his head like it was his own Pensieve. Harry wondered how much the bastard saw. This had never happened before with one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes in his last life. Then it occurred to Harry. He had a wholesome soul to fight off the Horcrux’s influences in his last life. Right now, not so much.

On second thought, he shouldn’t have put on the Diadem in the first place like some reckless child. Determined not to have any physical contact with the Horcrux again, Harry tried to levitate it inside his bag. The Diadem sat in its place, as if mocking him. Through his pounding headache Harry remembered that they were enchanted to be immune to most spells. Mumbling another curse under his breath, Harry wrapped it inside his crimson and gold scarf and shoved it into the bag.

When Harry pushed out of the room, he was almost blinded by the bright light. Snowflakes drifted in through cracks in the windows. It must have been snowing overnight because the world outside was blanketed in whiteness. 

It was the first day of a new year. And Harry felt like he had the worst hangover of his life.

Knowing he had no more time to waste, Harry whipped open the Marauder’s Map. A quick scan found Remus Lupin in the Great Hall, perhaps having his breakfast like nothing had happened. But he didn’t find neither Dumbledore nor Sirius. A dozen possible theories on what that could mean fleeted across Harry’s mind. Before panic settled in, Harry remembered the two-way notebook. His fingers felt clumsy when he flipped open the notebook. Harry suppressed the urge to roast Voldemort in a pyre.

“Harry are you alright?? They told me you’re ‘fine’. What’s that supposed to mean? Talk to me.”

“Hey Harry. They’re letting us walk free. Dumbledore even found me a place to stay in Hogsmeade. His brother (he has a brother?) owns a pub. It’s all rather bizarre. Anyway they assured me you’re still in Hogwarts. I’m sorry I let it slip with Remus, but I guess it’s not as bad as I imagined. Please stay out of trouble and don’t kill anybody. Write to me.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Harry put the map and the notebook back in his bag. He wasn’t in any position to write to Sirius right now. Maybe he didn’t know what to say.

Harry walked briskly to the Gryffindor tower to collect his personal items and more importantly, the Invisibility Cloak. The view up from the tower was especially beautiful with everything blanketed in fresh snow. Too bad Harry was incredibly sore after climbing a few flight of stairs. Harry swore the next time Voldemort wanted to suck on somebody’s life force, he can put the Diadem on a fucking toad. Let him wander around in its brain and learn all about eating flies.

After packing his bags, Harry raided the Potions classroom. Years of being on the run, scrapping up whatever potion ingredients he could find, had made him intensely possessive of Hogwart’s rich supplies. He certainly wasn’t above robbing Snape’s supplies clean before leaving. Harry murmured a spell. The cabinets flew open one by one, and the potion ingredients lined up and marched into his space extended bag like it was a Disney movie. In one of the cabinets, Harry was surprised to find a live toad. Its ugly face squatted on the shelf, next to a jar of pickled toads. Harry’s lips twitched in amusement, but in the end he decided to leave the creature behind.

With everything shrunk and tucked away safely, Harry was ready to leave. But he wanted to say his goodbyes.

Somehow the house elves had already made a clearing in the snow. Two small figures trudged along the meandering path, careful to not wet their boots. Harry cast a cleaning charm on himself, and felt the uncomfortable scouring sensation across his face. Then he slapped his face to put some color in the cheeks.

“Hey.” Harry stepped out of the pillar he was hiding behind.

Ron jumped, snow bouncing up and down on ginger hair. “Harry?”

Harry nodded. Then he felt Ron grab him by the shoulders and shaking the soul out of him. “Where have you been? You didn’t go to bed last night. And you look like hell mate! Did you sleep in a dumpster?”

“I..um” Harry’s fuddled brain tried to come up with an excuse “was locked inside the loo.”

“Locked inside the loo!” Ron’s exclaim almost caused an avalanche on the castle “By who?”

Harry’s mouth opened to name Malfoy by default, but then he remembered the castle was empty for Christmas break except for a handful of students and a skeleton staff.

“Snape.” Harry nodded his head as if it would make his story more convincing “I called him a sad old git because nobody would celebrate new year’s eve with him. Then he got mad and threw me into the uh, prefect’s bathroom and locked the door.”

“That slimy evil bat! He can’t punish you for telling the truth. That’s child abuse!”

Harry patted Ron’s hand placatingly, rather afraid Snape would hear him yelling all the way from the Great Hall.

“Professor Snape locked you inside the bathroom?” Hermione asked coldly.

Harry opened his mouth to answer. But apparently it was a rhetorical question, because Hermione’s wand was pointed at him the next second.

“Oppugno!” The witch shouted. At least two dozens of snowballs the size of saucers rose from the ground and sent themselves hurtling towards Harry.

Harry instinctively covered his head, and got pelted by the legion of snowballs so hard he could barely open his eyes. Hermione turned on her heels vindictively and stormed off. “Wait!” Harry shouted, and got fed a mouthful of snow that almost knocked his teeth out. When it became clear the witch didn’t intend to come back, Harry gave a frustrated wave of his hand. The rest of the snowballs hit the ground and melted into puddles of water.

“I’ll run after her.” Harry said.

“Yea.” Ron squeaked, looking horrified for all the right reasons.

Hermione had left a trail of footsteps in the snow. Harry willed his legs to move and ran after it. The snow stuck in his collar had melted and ran down his skin like a small river.

Harry found her sitting in a pile of snow by the Black Lake.

“Feeling better?”

“No.” When she turned to glare at him, her eyes were red and puffy.

Harry moved closer and sat down a few feet away. They watched the Black Lake, which had stayed magically unfrozen in this weather. Harry knew he must like a complete mess right now. Birds wouldn’t deign to make nest in his hair.

“How long have you been lying to us?” She asked, doing the best to keep herself from yelling.

“How much do you know?”

She showed him the timer turner she was squeezing in her hand. “Professor Dumbledore gave it back to me this morning. The time turner that you _stole_ from me last night. How could you do that, Harry?”

Harry rubbed his temple. Has it only been last night? He felt like it had been days.

“Definitely not because Professor Snape locked you in a bathroom.” Her voice gained a sharp edge at his quietness, “I was right that you’ve been different. I knew something was off. The Harry I know wouldn’t keep his distance and push us away. He wouldn’t make up these lies to our face.”

“I wasn’t trying to push you away.” Harry said “It wasn’t safe.”

“We’re not some toys you can keep in the dark and play with when you feel like it!”

Harry felt incredibly drained. A part of him recoiled at the thought of explaining everything to a naïve thirteen year old and laying himself bare for her judgement. It just wanted her to shut up and fuck off.

“I’m sorry.” It was all Harry could say.

Perhaps it was the pale cheeks or sunken eyes, something about him stirred up Hermione’s pity. “Then talk to me” she pleaded “If you needed the time turner, you could’ve asked and I would have helped you use it. It would make Professor McGonagall very, very unhappy, but I want to help you, Harry. You need to tell me what’s going on.”

Harry was relieved that Dumbledore didn’t let her in on anything. It was typical of the old man to make Harry confess everything himself. Harry knew where this would lead. If he opened his heart to her, it would mean no more leaving Hogwarts. No more Dark Lords, no more dark magics, and certainly no more dead muggles. 

Hermione was still looking at him searchingly. Harry looked past her teary face and saw a silvery silhouette floating above the Black Lake. Despite all these years, Harry recognized him instantly. He looked every bit the man young Riddle from the diary wanted to be. He was clothed in a dark, unembellished robe. The strikingly handsome face was adorned with stripes of burn marks, no doubt from excessive use of dark magics. The crimson eyes were the only thing about him with color. They peered at everything like they were used to looking down the world from above a throne. Full lips, shaped like perfect petals, leered derisively at them.

“Bastard.” Harry cursed.

“What?” Startled, Hermione turned around and searched for something wrong. She saw nothing but quiet snow melting on the surface of the lake. Then her eyes suddenly felt very heavy. She was unimaginably tired, too tired to think a single thought. She fell asleep before her head hit Harry’s shoulder.

Harry placed her gently on the ground. He casted an Impervious charm and a warming charm on her to keep the snow away. Then he stood to face the man.

“Voldemort” Harry addressed the other Horcrux with distaste. “Spy on me once more and you’ll be swimming in Fiendfyre.”

The ghost chuckled lightly, the sound rather surreal in Harry’s ears.

“I wanted to see this place again before leaving.” He answered in a silky, pleasant voice.

Harry snorted, “Haven’t you stayed enough in this place already? Besides, it’s _my_ life force you’re using to take physical form. So get yourself back inside the tiara before anyone sees you.” With that said, Harry turned away without sparing him another look. But his arm tensed, ready to slip the ward into his hand from its hoister any second if the Diadem was foolish enough try anything on Hermione.

The Diadem knew that he was, in fact, a mere illusion that only Harry could see. But he didn’t share that secret.

“Are we fleeing right now? Leaving everything behind - ” ruby eyes flickered to the girl lying unconscious in the snow “- including your friends?”

Harry kept on walking, determined to ignore the other Horcrux. His head was ringing. Any more friendly conversation with Voldemort could make it explode.

“Why not make Hogwarts yours?”

Harry snapped his head back. The Diadem stood there, hands folded together innocently, like he didn't just propose taking down Hogwarts.

“Cut to the chase.” Harry said. He knew the Horcrux was up to something, but he didn't have the patience to run around in circles. 

“If you would gift the Diadem to a random student before you leave,” ruby eyes gleamed at him “I’ll give you Dumbledore’s head on a platter.”

“Ha” Harry rolled his eyes “What makes you think ghost-you can kill Dumbledore when the real you can’t, after all these years? Let me remind you that he’s still very much alive and you’re currently bodiless and possessing small animals in --- wherever.”

“Don’t let him take credit for your doing”, a quiet rage pulsed in the Diadem’s voice at Harry’s provocations, “Even in his prime he has played turtle behind that castle. Now he’s just an old man with one leg in the grave, distracted by the mess you left behind. He’d never see it coming. I’d be doing both of us and the Wizarding World a great favor, Harry. Take me to an agreeable host, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Harry studied the silvery figure, who returned a cold glare. He almost found his offer compelling. Almost. But Harry knew beneath that impassive mask lived an insatiable monster. It hungered for life after decades of being caged inside a Diadem. If Harry shook its hand, it wouldn’t hesitate before devouring his arm. It was already pure insanity to be dealing with one Voldemort, Harry didn’t need more Horcruxes running around with physical bodies.

“First of all, don’t Harry me like we’re friends, _Tom_.” Harry said. It was really something he should have told Voldemort a long time ago. “Secondly, Dumbledore has a literal sword drenched in Basilisk venom that’s very convenient for killing Horcruxes. I can’t take it with me because the Sword of Gryffindor goes wherever it wants to go. Dumbledore also happens to have experience dealing with Horcruxes after what happened with the Diary in my second year. Maybe you didn’t get to that part of my memories.”

The Diadem’s face darkened.

“Bottom line, if you stay, you will die.” With that said, Harry walked away from him. After a short while, Harry looked back, and the silvery ghost was gone.

The rest of the walk to Hagrid’s cabin stayed uneventful. The snow got deeper the further he was from the castle. On the bright side, Harry had regained a fraction of his strength, and it wasn’t too difficult to wade through it.

By Hagrid’s pumpkin field, now devoid of pumpkins, Harry found the hippogriff. Despite the heavy chains around its claws, the beast stood regal and aloof. Its eagle head held high and steel-colored beak glistened dangerously at any advancers. Upon recognizing Harry, however, its head lowered, allowing him to approach.

Harry ran his hand across its back, feeling how the feathers blended seamlessly into fur. The original Harry had done him a favor by earning the hippogriff’s trust. If they were about to execute the beast anyway, it seemed a shame not to take it with him.

“Let’s fly away, shall we?”

A muttered spell, and the magically empowered chains aged rapidly and grew brittle. The hippogriff clawed at its bounds impatiently, and the chains broke into lumps of red rust. Swinging his bag across his back, Harry grabbed a fistful of its feathers and jumped onto its back. With a great gush of wind, the hippogriff pushed itself off the ground and soared into the sky.


	11. Harry lies back and thinks of britain

He sat in the same spot, day after day, until time became frozen like a fly in the ointment. His only way of telling the time was that Winky showed up twice a day to reinforce the Imperius curse on him and feed him. The food was always some sort of soup or gruel. Sobbing, the house-elf would say: “Young Master is not yet strong enough for solid food!” It made no difference. They all tasted like cotton balls on his numb tongue. But he resented how the soup often dripped from his mouth and down his shirt, and made him feel like a worthless invalid.

He played nice with the elf, even though its blind loyalty to his imprisoner filled him with disgust. He imagined himself a venomous serpent, biding its time and hiding itself in the grass… just like how he was blending into the wooden chair and the green floral wallpapers. They were his camouflage.

The door to his world opened and in walked an old, gaunt man with a narrow toothbrush mustache.

“Winky!” He took one look at him and yelled, giving the Invisibility Cloak above him a rough tug so that it fully covered his feet. The house-elf appeared as summoned with a crack.

“What have I said about keeping him _absolutely_ still?” The man snapped impatiently “From now on you will apply the curse on him three times a day. Understood?”

Normally, the elf would be squealing and pinching itself black and blue as punishment for negligence by now. But Winky had a dazed look in its large, round eyes. Its spindly fingers rose and pointed towards its Master, shaking as if struggling against some invisible force.

The telltale signs of the Imperius curse were obvious to an experienced eye. Barty Crouch Senior’s eyes immediately widened and he reached for his wand, but a light zap from the elf’s fingertip sent him crumbling to the floor.

Still immobile and tied to the chair, Barty Junior’s heart jumped to his throat in elation. Winky walked over its Master’s unconscious body and lifted the Invisibility Cloak over Barty's head. With a breath of fresh air, Barty realized that the Imperius curse over him was lifted as well.

“Winky is told to give this message” the elf said in a scratching high voice “Young Master has been instructed to find the Dark Lord and bring Him to His most trusted. Young Master must travel to Albania secretly, where the Dark Lord currently resides. Once Young Master has found the Dark Lord, call for Winky. Together we will restore the Dark side to its full glory.”

“Yes!” Barty rasped, an unnatural flush burning his pale cheeks “The day has finally come!” He staggered forward, and kicked the man sprawling on the ground with all his force. The man – his father –who condemned him to life in Azkaban then locked him away under the Imperius curse, was the same man who swatted him away at his lowest, and disowned him in front of the entire Wizengamot. Look how his face bloodied under the sole of his shoe!

“I will rise up with the greatest Dark wizard ever lived.” Barty made good use of his new found control over his voice and pledged his allegiance “I’m no one’s son, but His most loyal follower. I will rise above all of you to become the Dark Lord’s most trusted!”

Before Barty turned to Winky to get more information about his mysterious rescuer, Winky snapped its finger and disappeared. 

The elf reappeared in the well-kept garden of a muggle house not so far away. A large hippogriff, half eagle and half horse, was bent over on its scaly knees and picking apart the carcass of a dove with its beak. Harry leaned sleepily against an apricot tree, conjuring a variety of small animals to feed the hippogriff. So far he found racoons to be particularly to Buckbeak’s liking. A couple of muggles walked past them, going about their own business. Under the protection of the muggle repellent wards, they steadfastly ignored this particular garden and the weird trio.

“Winky has freed Young Master and delivered the message.” The elf reported dutifully.

Something about the elf caught Harry’s attention, and green eyes half-hooded from sleepiness snapped open to study it more closely.

“The curse’s starting to wear off already?” Harry muttered. House-elves and their unwavering loyalties can be a handful to deal with sometimes. Swishing his wand, Harry casted another Imperius on the elf.

“Take Crouch Jr to Albania. Keep an eye on him but don’t let him know you’re following him. Report to me when he finds the Dark Lord.”

The elf’s face slackened, and a dense fog set in those tennis ball sized eyes, then it disappeared with a crack.

Harry picked a low hanging apricot from the tree behind him and bit into it. It tasted sour. That was when he felt a gentle breeze tingling the hair against his ears, and watched a puff of silvery smoke form the silhouette of the Diadem.

“Crouch? Wouldn’t happen to be related to Bartemius Crouch, Head of Magical Law Enforcement?” The Diadem asked, head inclined slightly to the side in a display of curiosity.

Harry stroked the feathery plumage on Buckbeak’s neck as if he had not heard the question. Drops of blood from the dove slid down the grey-white feathers, leaving not a single stain behind. Unlike Tom Riddle from the Diary, a teenager and an orphan all alone in the world, the Diadem was not eager to lure his prey with soothing words and a pleasant smile. Charm had no place in the face of absolute power he once wielded, and men had their heads separated from their necks for pettier offenses than ignoring him. The Diadem’s eyes narrowed, but he saw fit to keep his tone neutral:

“What are you trying to achieve out here, instead of tucked away inside Hogwarts, if we can’t even converse like adults?”

Harry shot him an annoyed look. Unaccustomed he may be to sharing his plans with anyone else, he knew the Diadem had a point. “Barty Crouch Jr is his son” Harry said “One of your many followers with daddy issues, but one of the few with some brains and loyalty. He’s easier to break out than other Death Eaters in Azkaban. I sent him out there looking for you.”

“The old Barty, too envious of my power to bow his proud head, imprisons a Death Eater son inside his home, I see?” The Diadem chuckled darkly, amused at what Harry’s words revealed “And what makes you think Barty Jr. will be the one to find me?”

“He helped resurrect you the last time around. Honestly, I’m not going to wander around the forest all the way up in Albania searching for you. Barty can take care of that part and I’ll take care of the resurrection ritual.”

The Diadem pressed his lips together, mulling over a thought. It was his turn to ponder whether to share or withhold information. “I know where in Albania I am.” He said eventually “I had been assembling an alchemy formation there to make a new body for myself. It’s where I would go if I were in need of a body.”

Harry finally stopped stroking Buckbeak, to the beast’s protests, and turned to look at the Diadem suspiciously.

“But you didn’t use any formation in Albania in my last life. You cooked yourself in a cauldron, literally.”

“You can’t possibly believe I haven’t the foresight to prepare a body for myself, should the need arise?” The Diadem said swiftly “There must be other reasons that made Voldemort forego the formation. Tell me, what were the results of the ritual?”

“The results were quite ugly. You came out undercooked, I think.” Harry took another bite of his apricot, and laughed at how the Diadem simmered in rage. Who would’ve known talking with ghost Voldemort could be fun?

“I imagine you weren’t so cheeky then, cowering in fear as your worst fear corporealized in front of your eyes. Did I show you real pain for the first time, Harry? Even after all this time, you must remember.” The Diadem’s voice had a bewitching lilt to it, like a snake hissing into his ear.

Harry hurled the pit of the apricot at a nearby tree.

“You gave me my first deaths, but I killed you four, five times? Let’s call it a draw. You wanted to use my blood in that ritual, I think. Because of a certain blood magic protection over me, you couldn’t physically touch me unless you used my blood.”

“I presume it's the ritual that uses the flesh of the servant, blood of the enemy, and bones of the father?” Disdain dripped through the Diadem’s voice.

“Exactly” Harry smirked “Dumbledore said by using my blood you accidentally made me your equal. Guess that wasn’t part of your plan.”

Crimson eyes flashed with icy contempt, deriding the idea that anything had the audacity to be called his equal. It was gone in an instant as the Diadem put his neutral mask back on, but Harry was good at reading Voldemorts. A muggle family strolled past them then. Their Golden Retriever wearing a knitted sweater wagged its tail and sniffed around the garden excitedly. Harry had to put a firm hand on Buckbeak to stop him from swooping in and having the dog for snack.

“I don’t feel like going to Albania” Harry said lazily “It’s easier to recreate the ritual from my last life. Time for a visit to little Hangleton to dig up your dad’s bones, Tom.”

Harry peered at the Diadem, gauging his reaction. Whatever alchemy confection Voldemort prepared for himself was no doubt more powerful than the crude cauldron one he took on in the last life. Harry’s plans may require giving Voldemort a body, but he’s not about to be charitable and go with Voldemort’s favorite one. He wouldn’t make the Dark Lord any more powerful than what was necessary. It was the same reason Harry never named any of the Cerberus he raised. They were sent out first in any battle to tear down the muggle’s first line of defense, and to die after they had served their purpose.

Besides, Harry was certain whatever protective magic his mother put on him was long gone. He had felt traces of her disintegrate when he snuffed out the “real” Harry and took over this body, which means he had nothing to lose by getting Voldemort the cauldron body back. The Diadem might disagree, but what could he possibly do, being little more than a wisp of smoke?

The Diadem smiled at him. It wasn’t like the usual condescending leer he wore, but a genuine smile that blossomed on those lips and made him seem more real than ever. Harry’s heart sank.

“Did you forget something, Harry? As I recall, the ritual goes along the lines of ‘Blood of the enemy, _forcibly taken,_ you will give life to your foe?’”

Pettigrew’s trembling voice seemed to resonate in Harry’s ears: “Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe.” The ritual unambiguously left no room for said enemy to willingly offer up his blood.

“Circe’s cunt.”

The Diadem arched an eyebrow at Harry’s expressive use of words. It certainly wasn’t an expletive common in his age.

Harry rolled his wand in his fingers compulsively as he thought it over. There really weren’t any other options left. Albania it was. “I’ll have to get to a smuggler first. I happen to know where a few of those slimy fuckers might be - ” Apparition was out of the question since he had never been to Albania, and legal international portkeys were heavily regulated, leaving smuggling the only option. But the self-satisfied look on the Diadem’s face told Harry he had a different idea. “-unless you have a better idea?”

“If you’re up to international Apparition, I can share the memory of the location in Albania with you.” The Diadem said, and offered his right hand.

Needless to say Harry did not take his hand.

“Be a darling and give me your hand, Harry. Unless you can give me a wand to extract the memory?”

Harry reached up and touched the Diadem. It felt like he had dipped his hand in cold water. The tip of the Diadem’s finger dissolved into a thread of milky white smoke, and it wriggled its way under Harry’s skin. An image of a tall heap of dirt sprang into Harry’s mind. Upon closer look, it was the ruins of a once great doorway covered in vines and moss. It looked more like an archaeological excavation site than an alchemy formation, but Harry trusted the Diadem to not set him up - until after Voldemort was resurrected.

“Stay still” Harry told the hippogriff. He grabbed a fistful of its feathers and Apparated with a loud crack.

Harry felt the sensation of being squeezed through a narrow tube for a nauseatingly long time. When his feet finally touched solid ground, he fell backwards into a tree. He grabbed it by the trunk and gave up the contents of his stomach, which fortunately, consisted of only an apricot.

“You shouldn’t have taken the beast along for long distance apparition.” The Diadem materialized again “Straining your magic at this age will impair the growth of your core.”

Harry wiped his clammy hands over the robe to gain a better grip of his wand. “If you care so much, why don’t you _be a darling_ and give back some of the life force you took?”

“I care for you as much as I care for myself, my Horcrux, but not a bit more.”

Harry laughed drily. “Lead the way then.”

The Diadem tiled his head to the left. Following his gaze, Harry saw that it had been sitting right next to them. Time and rain had eroded the ruins even more. Stumps where once pillars had been were overshadowed by trees and buried in vegetation. Harry had to strip away a thick layer of vines to reveal the now dirt-colored stone underneath. It was embossed with the regal portrait of a goblin king.

“I commissioned a clan of goblins…”

“Commissioned?”

“An accepted euphemism. They’d never share their secret way of amalgamation with wizards, so I took it for myself. The sword of Gryffindor is imbued with Goblin magic, they say, but this puts Gryffindor’s legacy to shame.” The Diadem ran his hand across the surface of the pillars as if he could actually touch it “Let it taste your blood, Harry.”

Harry bit his thumb and swiped it across the stone. They waited. The cut on Harry’s thumb congealed and stopped dripping blood. Nothing happened.

“Shame. It seems that I didn’t finish it after all.”

Harry glared icily at the Diadem - was about to make good on his death threats - when the ground beneath grumbled. Startled, Buckbeak jumped into the sky behind them. A circular alter the size of a Quidditch goal hoop rose spiraling from the ruins. When it came to a stop, a pristine white block of cylinder carved with gold colored runes stood before them. Harry noticed a number of small openings around its side. He walked up for a closer look, and saw that each opening was labeled with a slim brass plaque. He couldn’t read half of the runes, but the plaques were written in elegant penmanship in English.

“horn of unicorn” the first one read, then “tooth of manticore” “scale of ashwinder” “bone of aqrabuamelu”…

“Don’t tell me this alter needs all these?” Harry was starting to see the second reason why Voldemort made no use of this setup the last time around. Wormtail would throw himself into Azkaban before battling an aqrabuamelu.

“Why, of course” The Diadem floated around the alter smugly, admiring the runes work “I was planning to shed my mortal body eventually. Quality matters.”

“Circe’s –”

* * *

A magical forest stretched all the way from Albania to Romania, home to some of the largest groups of magical creatures in Europe, including unicorns. Harry fell into his familiar routine of hunting and hiding, only instead of muggles he hunted magical creatures. His cheeks quickly hollowed out and a dark circle formed around his eyes, but there was a vitality in his steps that was absent when he was back in warm and fuzzy Hogwarts. At the moment, Harry was drenched in sweet-smelling, viscous unicorn blood. It made his legs feel heavy as he ran through the woods, the enraged wails of a herd of unicorns trailing behind him. He stuffed the freshly carved out unicorn horn in his bag, and whistled. A gracefully curved broomstick, his Firebolt, tore through the dense foliage and flew into his hand. Harry swung his legs over it and shot into the sky.

Heart still thumping rapidly in his ribcage, Harry laughed as he again escaped the clutches of danger. A part of him finally felt right in his own skin. It loved flirting with death more than writing up essays, preferred the smell of blood to butter bear, and it could be at ease only when he was by himself and utterly alone.

“Land in the nearby town up east.” Alone – except for the Diadem who always took the liberty to materialize whenever he wanted. “There should be a poacher’s black market there, where we can find the more commonplace ingredients.”

“Robbing poachers? Sounds fun.” Harry grinned, but to the Diadem’s frustration he began descending into the deep bowels of the forest. When the adrenaline faded, Harry felt his grip around the broom slipping, his fingers weak from long-term magical drain. The view of the forest below zoomed in and out, in and out before his eyes. He wasn’t suicidal enough to take on a team of poachers in this state.

They landed on a thick branch of a giant magical pine tree. The Diadem watched Harry curl up into a ball with an exasperated look. “You can take a nap in town on a proper bed after some proper food.”

“No.” Came the decisive answer.

“If this is some infantile attempt to thwart me, do yourself a favor and stop.”

Harry groaned in annoyance and rolled away from the ghost. “The muggles around here are at war, more or less, which makes them more dangerous than any dragons or anything else I might run into here. Alright?”

Suddenly, the branch under him quivered. Harry heard a soft sound humming to a nursery rhyme. A blazing orange shadow pounced on him.

“Crucio!” Harry instinctively jumped to the side and shot a curse at the predator. He felt the bite of steel-like claws into his shoulder. His back thudded on a lower branch, which Harry gripped to steady himself. That was when he had a good look at the beast. It was just Harry’s luck that he ran into a manticore – a lion with the head of human and tail of scorpion, and a coat of fur impervious to most charms. They were known to sing pleasant tunes as they devour their victims.

“Less dangerous than muggles, you said?” The Diadem said darkly.

The manticore let out an all too human shriek when the curse hit it. Then its lion’s body twisted midair to regain its balance, and it landed on a nearby branch quietly on padded claws. It had stopped humming. The human face sniffed long and hard at Harry, and wetted its lips with a pink tongue.

“Just when I need a manticore’s tooth for your blasted ritual. Delivered to my doorstep. ” Harry returned the manticore’s glare. He shifted the Holly into his left hand, while his right was already slippery with blood from the gash on his shoulder.

The manticore’s mouth opened, showing rows of crooked, sharp teeth, and spoke in a tongue Harry did not understand.

“It called you a rare, delicious snack in Greek.” The Diadem supplied.

“Really helpful!” Harry dived backwards when the manticore pounced again. Maybe he ought to be thankful for his experiences possessing a squirrel. He jumped between the branches at almost fifty meters in the air to put more distance between him and the manticore. But the manticore moved with an improbable agility considering its size, and quickly closed in on its prey.

A stream of slicing charms shot out of the Holly wand and into all the trees behind him. When the manticore pushed off from the trunks, the thousand year old trees wobbled, then crashed into the ground with the force of an earthquake. The manticore let out a semi-human growl when a falling branch collided against its tail. Enraged, it maneuvered itself out of the web of falling trees and leapt towards Harry.

With a shrill cry, a hippogriff dashed out of the woods and intercepted the manticore’s claws with its razor sharp talons. Cussing some vile words, the manticore swerved and aimed its venomous scorpion tail at the hippogriff. But a rope of fire shot out of Harry’s wand and whipped it on the back. Buckbeak took the chance to struggle away and flew into the safety of the air. The flames whipped the manticore mercilessly. Though it left only slight soot marks over its fur, the manticore was stalled for another precious second. The falling trees came crashing around it.

Harry coughed, breathless from the dust stirred up by the thundering crash. His magic threatened to shut down from overuse. He felt as if someone had pulled every bone from his body, leaving his legs wobbling like jelly.

“Careful. It’s still alive.” The Diadem’s voice sounded distant in his ringing ears.

When the dust finally settled, the small mountain of fallen trees remained as still as a tomb, with the beast nowhere in sight. Harry peeled away the top of his shirt. Four parallel gashes lined his right shoulder, and blood kept oozing out of the otherwise pale and swollen flesh. Harry ran his left hand down the right arm to scoop up some blood, and smeared it generously over a random leaf on the branch. He had to bite his tongue to concentrate as his head swam from blood loss. But after a murmured incantation, the leaf enlarged rapidly and took the form of a body, arms, legs, robes, and a face. It transformed into a complete replica of Harry Potter.

The transfigured leaf looked over Harry with vacant eyes, then it jumped down onto the mess of fallen trees. Blood dripped from the wound on its shoulder and into the ground. One moment, it was searching for the manticore, wand gripped tightly in its fingers. The next second, a black blur in the air plunged straight through its neck. The manticore burst out of the trees with a sentient look of triumph in its eyes, dangling the dead corpse of “Harry” on its scorpion tail.

“Avada Kedavra!” Harry shouted. A flash of bright green light hit the manticore and froze it forever in the moment of victory.

At the same time, Harry fell like he was the one shot by the killing curse. The curse had drained the last bit of his strength. He could use some rest, a little nap. But he knew he must bandage the cut. The scent of blood will draw more beasts even if the blood loss didn’t get him. The fabric of his shirt felt too strong, and Harry was fighting a losing battle against it…

Harry felt a cool hard against his cheek. Then a wonderful warmth emanated from the point of contact and traveled through his entire body. Harry’s lashes fluttered. He opened his blurry eyes and saw the silvery outline of the Diadem's face, inches above his. The ghost’s form wavered, its edges muddied, and colors faded.

Suddenly, Harry jerked awake. He had been sleeping inside the cradle of Buckbeak’s wings. The dead body of the manticore lied not so far away on a heap of logs.

“Voldemort?” Harry called for the Diadem. But the Horcrux didn’t materialize and strut around about him as usual. Harry began casting healing spells on his shoulder wound, which had more or less congealed already. His magical supply was replenished and he felt more refreshed than he had been for days.

“Gave back some of the life force to help me?” Harry asked the serene air. Buckbeak hooted lightly. Harry’s lips twitched into a derisive smile. Voldemort had made his move with this baffling behavior. He must have some sort of scheme brewing, and Harry was going to figure it out.


End file.
